


Dragonfire

by Ronin



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: F/M, Finding the way home., Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-12 03:41:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 65,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2094366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ronin/pseuds/Ronin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a remote part of Centra, at the site of a recent, devastating battle, a young boy finds a mysterious, badly injured man. He alerts his mother who, along with the local doctor, save the man's life and nurse him back to health. But as a result of his injuries, he has no memory of who he is. Meanwhile, Squall Leonhart, SeeD commander, has disappeared while on assignment...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shattered Knight

The boy picked his way cautiously though the blackened and broken debris. He was getting closer to the battle site. His mother had warned him to stay away, but curiosity drove him. He'd heard the thunder in the night; had seen the lightning and had felt the ground trembling beneath his feet. It had sounded like a storm, just as his mother had insisted it was, and he'd nearly believed her. Until he'd seen the dragon.

He didn't even know what he was doing out there, what he was looking for, really. He just wanted to see what such a titanic battle had left behind. Romantic notions of a bold knight battling that dragon filled his mind and he wondered if he'd get to see the actual dragon up close, slain by the knight. He wondered how big it was, and how sharp its teeth were. It didn't occur to him that he might see the _knight_ slain instead.

He wandered farther into the battlefield, gazing in awe at the sheer destruction left behind. He had to detour carefully around great, tumbled chunks of rock and earth, chasms, craters, and fissures, some still smoking; broken, shattered and charred trees, and everywhere, _everywhere_ , the acrid stench of burning and eye-watering, choking smoke. The dragon _had_ to have been real, not his imagination like his mother had insisted; nothing else would leave everything so burned and blackened.

The smoke made it hard to see, and the boy had to slow his advance as the footing had gotten treacherous. So it was understandable that at first, he could not differentiate the twisted forms that littered the ground from the charred, skeletal trees. It wasn't until he stumbled over one that he realized in sick horror that they were bodies.

_Human_ bodies. Soldiers, by their appearance; dozens of them, scattered everywhere.

Stomach churning, he continued onward, the scattered bodies becoming more numerous as he approached what must have been the center of the battle. The epicenter of whatever event had left everything charred and smoking. He didn't recall actually _seeing_ the dragon belching fire; all he remembered was a brilliant flash of what had looked like lightning. There might not even have been a dragon. It might have been like his mother had said: just the remnants of a dream getting confused with what he'd seen in the middle of the night, his sleep-mazed mind trying to make sense of the insensible.

The stench of burned flesh grew stronger, reminding the boy sickeningly of a roast his mother had burned once. He nearly threw up and stopped, eyes watering, beginning to feel both nauseous and a little scared. Wondering if he should go back home. He stumbled forward, blinking his streaming eyes, and gazed around, looking for the way back to the pathway he'd taken in.

He stopped, realizing he'd finally reached the center of the swath of destruction he'd been traversing. He turned around, gazing outward, seeing now the pattern that radiated from this focal point. A gust of wind blew the smoke away briefly, clearing his vision enough that he saw the body that lay there. Another dead man, only _this_ one wasn't burnt to ash.

The man lay prone, face turned to the side, one arm outstretched, with his hand still grasping the handle of a strange, swordlike weapon. He was covered in blood; it soaked the ground beneath him as well as his clothing, which bore great rents as though he'd been savaged by a wild beast. It also crusted a nasty wound on the man's temple and trickled down his white face.

The wind keened suddenly, and the boy shivered, hearing voices within it. Perhaps it was his mother, looking for him. She'd be upset that he'd wandered into this place and seen such carnage; upset enough perhaps to warm his bottom. He didn't like that thought. He _should_ go back. But the weapon that the man still held had captured the boy's imagination.

He'd never seen anything like it. It was both sword and gun, and while dirty and crusted with blood, was still beautiful. Where it wasn't darkened and smeared with gore, the blade was a glowing sky blue. It swept gracefully from the point back to the gun part of the weapon, which was cunningly fashioned from silver, polished steel and blackwood, incorporating the motif of a winged lion into its design. At the very end of the handle, next to the man's head, was a small charm of a roaring lion's head, attached to it by a chain, the whole of it also in silver.

"Wow…" the boy whispered. It was a knight's weapon. It _had_ to be. Only, the dead man wasn't wearing any armor. Of course, it was modern times now. Maybe knights didn't _need_ to wear armor anymore.

Greatly daring, he walked right up to the dead knight and knelt down, wanting to take a closer look at his blade. The wind moaned softly, and the distant voice the boy had thought he'd heard became more distinct. And more worrisome; it _was_ his mother, looking for him. He looked around, wondering how close she was, how much time he had to examine the beautiful artifact. This contributed to his haste and made him incautious; in reaching for the handle of the blade, he grasped the man's hand instead.

He jumped back, heart in his throat, and stared, eyes wide. The hand had been _warm_. Not cold and rigid, as he'd heard corpses usually were, but warm and pliant. He sat frozen, watching the man closely, wondering now if he was actually dead, or if he'd simply died more recently than last night.

The wind moaned again… a quiet, whispering moan, filled with pain. No. _Not_ the wind…but the man lying in front of him. The boy swallowed convulsively, wondering what to do. The man was dying, that was obvious. But that knowledge left the boy scared and confused…he didn't want the man to die… _did_ he? No. He was a knight and if he lived, if the boy helped him…maybe the knight would be his friend?

"Teran! Teran where are you?" His mother's voice, coming closer.

Teran leaped to his feet suddenly. Maybe his mother could help this knight and stop him from dying.

"Mom! Mom I'm over here! Hurry!" he called, and was rewarded by his mother's quick appearance, anger darkening her eyes.

"Teran! What are you doing here? I told you to stay away from this place! You shouldn't be here, it's not safe!" she said angrily, fear plain in her eyes.

She started in surprise as her son grabbed her hand and dragged her forward, "Mom! There's no time for that! Look!" she gasped at the sight of the bloodied form at her feet.

"Teran! What…"

"He's not dead mom!" Teran said urgently, asking, "Can you help him?"

She frowned at the man's appearance; then knelt down next to him and placed a practiced finger beneath his jaw at the side of his neck, saying softly, "Ter honey, I don't know if I can…"

"Please? Can you try?" Teran asked, pleading. His mother gave him a puzzled look, wondering why he was so interested, and then looked down at the injured man. Her fingers _had_ detected a heartbeat, but it was weak. In all likelihood, the man would perish before much could be done for him. Still…what kind of person would she show herself to be, if she simply left him to die alone on the cold ground? Alone, with no one to hold his hand…

"I'll try, but you need to help me." She told her son seriously.

"What do I need to do?" He asked.

"Run as fast as you can to get Doc."

* * *

Maiere Collen blinked her blurring eyes, rubbing at them in an attempt to wipe away the fatigue that had left them burning. Focusing on the still form that lay in her guest room's bed, she felt a brief stab of panic until she saw his chest rise as he drew in another breath. Slow, shallow, but….regular.

Neither she nor Doc thought that the man would make it through the night, so Maiere held vigil by the stranger's bedside, holding his limp hand, determined that he should not pass alone and uncomforted. Not like Brend had.

Memories of her twin brother's death made her heart ache, and she pushed them away even as she acknowledged to herself at least, that it was for _his_ sake that she was watching over a dying stranger.

She studied the hand that she held, running her finger over the silver ring that adorned the third finger. It was beautifully carved into the likeness of a roaring winged lion, much like the etching on his swordlike weapon, and nearly a twin to the silver pendant that he wore. The fingers were long, tapered, and well-formed but strong, the hand callused. He'd used his weapon a lot.

There was no identification on him, no clue as to his identity. No name, nothing. When… _if_ he died, she would have no idea whom to notify. The ring on his finger offered a hint that he did indeed have a family. A wife at least, if not children as well. Someone out there was missing him. Looking for him. She sighed, suddenly hoping that he would survive and be able to make his way back to them himself.

She couldn't help but wonder about him. Who he was, what part he'd played in the battle from the night before, which had come far too close to their little community of Haverhill for comfort. As dawn approached, her curiosity became more personal; what his wife was like, if he had children…if he was even still married.

Even battered and unconscious, he was very handsome, with finely drawn, chiseled features; easier to look at, now that the blood had been washed away. A bandage around his head partially obscured a scar that ran diagonally between his eyes, starting above his right eyebrow, running over the bridge of his nose and terminating below his left eye. Whatever had given him that scar, if it had struck him even an inch in either direction, he would have lost an eye. In this, he had been fortunate. It didn't mar his appearance to any great extent, though it did raise questions and give him a slightly dangerous look, even in his currently helpless, insensible state.

"You're an idiot, Maiere," she murmured to herself. Lost puppy syndrome, that's what it was. Teran was always bringing home wounded or lost animals, and Maiere had done her best to patch them up. Sometimes it worked and the critter was set free or a home found for it. Sometimes it didn't. So on that level, it wasn't surprising that her son would want her to try and save _this_ wounded creature also.

But on another level, it left her wondering exactly _why_ her son had been so insistent. Her tired mind went round and round with it, drawing the conclusion that she had somehow managed to raise an unusually compassionate child. It did worry her a bit, if this man did in fact succumb to his injuries, how Teran would take it.

The sound of movement in the house, corresponding to a lightening at the edges of the bedroom's curtains, told Maiere that dawn was at hand. And the stranger was still breathing. Doc would be coming over soon to check on his patient, and Teran was likely already awake and ready for breakfast.

This supposition was borne out when the bedroom's door opened and her pajama-clad son entered, peered interestedly at the patient, then came up to Maiere and climbed up into her lap, snuggling against her. Maiere smiled to herself. Teran was always cuddly, first thing in the morning.

"Good morning mama," he whispered.

"Good morning baby. What did you want for breakfast?" she asked him quietly.

"I like eggs. And toast." He answered, then asked, "Can I have coffee?"

"Not yet, sprout. Milk or orange juice for you." Maiere answered.

"Awww." Teran sounded only slightly disappointed at this. Turning his head, he focused his attention on the man he'd found. "He's still sleeping."

"Yes," Maiere answered. The man's hand was still warm in hers. A good sign, actually. Had it gone cold or clammy, she would have called Doc. Thus far, they'd managed to prevent shock from taking too firm a hold on him. Blood loss however, and that head injury… Well, they'd done what they could.

"When do you think he'll wake up?" Teran asked her.

"I don't know Ter. He's hurt pretty badly."

The boy appeared to consider this, then asked, " _Will_ he wake up?"

"I don't know baby. Doc and I are doing everything we can." Maiere answered, then asked him, "why?"

"He needs to wake up and fight the dragon again. So he can beat it this time." Teran answered her seriously.

"What are you talking about Teran?" Maiere asked him, startled by her son's statement.

"It woke me up last night. Their fight. I saw a dragon when I looked out the window, so I went out to where the battle was, because I wanted to see what had happened, and I found him. I think he's a knight, and he was fighting the dragon and lost. We need to make him better so he can fight it again and win this time." Teran answered.

Maiere thinned her lips briefly. She'd known about the battle, and had not wanted Teran anywhere near there. It had been far too close for comfort, and she had no idea if the area was even safe to venture into. Apparently, judging by the carnage left behind, whatever enemies that may have survived had fled long since. She hoped, anyway.

"How come you're holding his hand mom?" Teran asked curiously.

"Remember when you got really sick?" Maiere asked him. "I held your hand so you wouldn't feel scared or lonely, remember?"

"Yeah. So, you're holding his hand so he won't be scared or feel lonely? Like you did me?" Teran asked her seriously. She nodded in response, and he said, "Good. He'll get better then."

"Why do you say that?" Maiere asked him.

" 'Cause I did." Teran answered simply.

Maiere wished she had his confidence. The boy squirmed, wanting to be off to do something else, and she loosened her encircling arm, allowing him to slide off her lap. He moved closer to the bed briefly and peered at the man, watching him for a minute. Then he touched the hand that Maiere held, resting his own small hand atop it before turning and heading toward the door.

Pausing, he looked back and asked, "When are you gonna cook breakfast?"

"When Doc gets here. He'll stay with our guest for a bit so he won't be alone." Maiere reassured the boy.

"Okay," Teran said, and left the room. Moments later, she heard the door to the hall bathroom open and close.

Doc arrived shortly afterward, followed by an anxious and interested Teran. Maiere smiled at her son, now scrubbed clean and dressed, wondering if his interest in Veterinary medicine would now change to human medicine.

Maiere got up and made room for the doctor, who checked over their patient, changing out the IV fluids and giving her an update on his prognosis.

"Well, he survived the night. That's a good thing. I honestly didn't think that he would. He's a tough young man." Doc said, adding, "He's still in pretty rough shape though. Multiple lacerations, including a deep, through and through stab wound below his right clavicle, like he was speared. Lucky for him, it missed the subclavian artery and the upper lobe of his lung. He's got three broken ribs, his left leg is broken, just above the ankle, and his right shoulder is dislocated. He's lost a lot of blood, and it's just dumb luck that I had enough O negative on hand. Took all that I had though. We'll have to do another blood drive to replace our supply; Deling City's too far and it takes too long to get anything from the blood banks there. The O neg will do in a pinch but this fella's _actual_ blood type is really rare: AB. If he ends up needing surgery or if he reacts adversely to the O negative, we'll be in trouble. His blood pressure's holding pretty well though, and his breathing's pretty steady, so I guess he hasn't punctured a lung or damaged anything internally. My biggest worry is that head injury." The doctor peered into the patient's face with a frown, and peeled first one and then the other eyelid up, shining a penlight into each eye in turn. He shook his head in concern, muttering under his breath.

"What did you say Doc?" Maiere asked.

"He needs a scan. I don't have the equipment here to do it and just can't tell what kind of damage he's sustained. He _has_ been brain-damaged, that much is clear; how severely remains to be seen. The fact is Maiere; he might not even wake up. Have you found anything that might give us a clue of who he is or who we can call?" the doctor asked her.

She shook her head, "nothing. The only thing he has on him is his jewelry. A ring…it might be a wedding ring…the pendant, an earring, and… _that_." She indicated the large blade, still crusted and dirty, that she had leaned carefully against the wall in the far corner of the bedroom. She didn't even know why she'd brought it, though Teran had insisted that the "knight", as he referred to the injured man, would want it.

"Hmmm. Take some pictures of it, and the jewelry. And him, once we can get him a little more presentable. I'll have Sherriff Marres come by and get some fingerprints too. If he's married or has any family, they're probably looking for him." The doctor shook his head again, commenting, "Looks awful young though, to have a wife. Looks like he's barely out of his teens."

That piqued Teran's interest. Up until that point, he'd been trying to follow the discussion Doc was having with his mom, but couldn't follow _all_ of it. Some of it, he simply didn't understand, particularly when Doc used what he called "doctor words". Some of it scared him and made him a little sad, thinking that the knight wouldn't wake up at all.

Finally, he spoke up, asking, "Can I help?" Looking from the doctor to his mother, he continued, "Maybe I can hold his hand, like mama did me? It made _me_ feel better, when I got sick."

Maiere and the doctor exchanged a look, and the doctor smiled down at the boy, saying, "I think that's a fine idea. If you help your mother with that, I think it'll do this young man a world of good."

"Okay," Teran nodded, satisfied.

The doctor glanced over at Maiere, and said, "I know you've been waiting breakfast on me. Go ahead and take care of it; I'll sit here with this young man awhile. Just bring me up some toast and coffee when you get a chance."

"All right. Thanks Doc."

"You're welcome, Maiere." He nodded at them both and took the seat that Maiere had vacated, picking up the limp hand and placing his fingers on the wrist. The pulse beat steadily, and felt just a bit stronger than it had the night before. Several pints of whole blood and plasma had undoubtedly contributed to that.

For a small town family doctor, he did all right with what he had to hand, but this young man's catastrophic injuries had nearly wiped out his supplies. He was going to have to take a trip to the next largest town, maybe even as far as Deling City, to replace them. Perhaps he'd take the young man with him, if he was stable enough for the trip. Then he shook his head. They'd need an ambulance and attendants to move him to a trauma center. Ideally, he should be airlifted out; the road was much too rough and while he was stable for the moment, a long trip over rough roads would do him far more harm than good. Still, perhaps when he went, he'd take whatever information on this man that they could gather and give it to the authorities there. Maybe he'd already been reported missing.

If he'd had any means of getting the man to an actual trauma center when Maiere and her son had fetched him, Doctor Marlow would have preferred doing so. But the trip was a long and arduous one, and the patient's condition was too precarious to chance moving him further. So they'd installed him in Maiere's guest bedroom and he'd done what he could for his patient and hoped for the best.

It could still go either way for this nameless young man, Marlow reminded himself. He'd managed to pull through the night, so had withstood the threat of shock and blood loss, but there still was the unknown quantity of his head injury and the possibility of infection. Marlow had antibiotics, but wasn't sure he had enough, should the patient's wounds go septic.

One thing that he'd noticed about his patient was the scars on his body; there were more than a few, and they hinted at similar injuries to the ones that he bore, sometime in his past. He was lean, muscular and fit, and his hands were callused. The doctor's attention strayed to the weapon in the corner of the bedroom.

He was a fighter. Soldier or mercenary, it didn't really matter which. That breed had a toughness borne both of training and sheer bloody-mindedness that would often win them through impossibilities. Perhaps this young man could use that to win through this as well. Only time would tell.

* * *

He drifted in a black void that was both familiar and frightening to him. Something had driven him here, to this dark emptiness. Monsters lived in the void, but they too seemed both familiar and alien all at once. He had retreated to this place, seeking numbness, seeking nothingness, seeking escape…. but the pain that had driven him there had followed him. He tried to outrun it, and grew tired from the running, but there was no escape….save one, and that way was barred to him. It promised him rest and release, but the monsters in the void, the voices that spoke to him, held him back from passing through that gateway.

The monsters, the voices, they had names, and seemed familiar to him, but he could not recall them. His confusion and pain distressed them; they tried to calm him before he withdrew further into the void to escape the voices, the pain, and the unclear, frightening nightmares.

The monsters did not follow, but their sorrow did. Instead, they seemed to draw together and the voices calling to him quieted. The pain was still there, but dimmed, and the muddle in his mind was held at bay by the entities that shared the void with him.

_We are Guardians._ The strongest of the voices told him, before withdrawing again.

He seized upon the small measure of peace that the momentary calm afforded him, and sank gratefully into it.

It was brief however. The Guardians did their best to drive away his nightmares, but there was no escape from the images: He was a frightened child, lost and alone, looking for…someone. He was a young man, wearing some kind of uniform and holding a weapon, running from something. Running for his life, fear making his heart race as whatever it was clanked and whined and breathed hot fumes down his neck.

He was dancing, heart racing for a different reason as he took the hand of a slender young woman. Or perhaps she took his; he couldn't recall clearly, and that alarmed him to the very core of his soul. He tried desperately to see her face but it was blank, blurred….gone. In every appearance in his memory she was faceless, fading. But she appeared in frequent flashes; a swirl of frothy white lace…a wedding gown? Running at his side, wearing blue, and firing a projectile at something. The only thing he could be sure of about her was that her hair was black and her skin, pale. And that somehow, she was important to him.

The image that lingered the longest was of this young woman walking in a sunlit field of flowers, translucent white wings spreading wide from her shoulders…and understanding dawned. She was an angel, come to lead him through that final door. He tried to speak to her, to follow where she led, but she faded away. He felt her loss keenly.

Always, there were voices; sometimes muted, sometimes strident, echoing throughout the darkness and the pain, ebbing and surging like a sea of blood, pounding in his head, throbbing in his bones. Aching all over. He felt lost, helpless, and it added to his confusion and his fear. Would he be lost in this emptiness forever? He felt as though he'd already been there for eternity, and that thought brought with it despair. He found a dark, quiet corner within himself, curled up into a ball, and began to cry.

_Where am I? Help me…_

Exhaustion took him and his consciousness faded. Perhaps he slept. In this place, it was impossible to tell. Something furred, feathered and purring wrapped itself around him and offered comfort. He sank into it and the sweet oblivion that followed gratefully.

Gradually, the pain faded to a dull ache. The nightmares still plagued him, but his…Guardians… protected him from the worst of them. Something, or _someone_ … from far off still called to him but he could not answer. He had slowly become aware of the fact that he had been injured somehow, which accounted for his current state. He thought perhaps that he should try to wake, but a type of inertia held him back from that.

His Guardians though, were encouraging him to attempt wading from the darkness where he floated.

_Do not fear,_ they told him. _We will protect you. You will be safe with us;_ _nothing can harm you here._

He wasn't sure about that, as the nightmares converged upon him, but the monsters in his head fended them off. He couldn't see them clearly, but got nebulous impressions of them: one seemed vaguely feline, while another 'felt' reptilian. There were others, one that felt cool and feminine, and the other….was hard to define as anything but an impression of great age and power.

The voices he'd been hearing grew more distinct, though he still could not make them out clearly. His Guardians reassured him that it was needful that he hear them. The nothingness of the void, while frightening in its emptiness, had offered a small measure of peace and a haven from pain and confusion, so he wasn't entirely willing to leave, but his Guardians were insistent upon it.

_You cannot stay in this place. If you do, you will be lost forever._ He looked at the speaker and finally saw it, starting in shock at its appearance. It was both terrible and beautiful, this creature. It gazed at him with glowing, ice-blue eyes set in a purple-furred, catlike face framed by a luxurious mane of silvery white.

_Lion. You look like a lion._ He thought, and the creature bowed its head with great dignity.

_It is the image that your mind has given me. I am what you have created._

That statement puzzled him deeply, but he could not examine it, for his Guardians were urging him onward. They led him to a place that wasn't quite as dark and remote as the place where he'd been hiding, and the lion-Guardian settled down next to him, folding its wide, white-feathered wings tightly against its back.

_Do not fear, Master._ It said, nudging him gently with its muzzle, a very feline gesture that offered comfort. _We will be with you._

He was grateful for the lion-creature's support. He needed it, for the agony and the nightmares that it brought became more distinct, and more immediate. He cried out and pressed himself into the Guardian's soft-furred side. A dizzying array of images assaulted him, and most of them were violent and bloody, edged about with pain. Some weren't, and those he wanted to hold on to… the feel, and taste and scent of a woman in his arms, the bubbling laughter of a child.

_Mine?_ He wondered.

_Yes,_ the Guardian answered.

_Why can't I see their faces?_ He asked, fear settling like a cold stone into the pit of his stomach. The creature did not answer.

Instead, it said, _rest, Master. We will guard you._

He did as directed, and as time passed, the confusion ebbed, as did the pain. He became aware of things dimly; his body, lying in a bed. A hand holding his. Voices, whispering from somewhere outside the void. His Guardian nudged him forward.

_You must hear them. Your mind has calmed, and you must wake._

_Have I been sleeping, all this time?_ He asked.

_Yes._ Came the answer.

_How long?_ He wondered.

_I do not know._ The Guardian answered.

That explained the nightmares at least. He sensed the Guardian's withdrawal, but still felt its presence. The others were there too, always had been, but the lion-like creature appeared to have been the one in charge. It had taken charge of _him_ , at any rate.

Awareness returned gradually. Pain was first; it had never really left him, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been. He still ached, but now he knew the source of it; his leg, his ribs, his shoulder, and his head, all throbbed. Hearing came next, and the voices that had pursued him in his confused, jumbled nightmares now whispered in his ears. They were unfamiliar to him, but they offered comfort, so he took what they offered. He drifted still, but in a different place; this was a grey, in-between place…a place that did not hold him nearly as tightly as the void.

" _Is he gonna wake today mama?" a child's voice whispered._

" _I don't know baby. Doc says he might. He's been showing signs of it." A woman's voice answered._

" _What kind of signs?" the child asked, curiously._

" _Well, watch him. See how his eyes are moving under his eyelids like that?"_

" _Yeah," the child answered, adding, "I think I felt him twitch too."_

" _That's actually a good sign. It means he's dreaming. It also means that he might be trying to wake up."_

" _Oh," the child said._

_Elaborating further, the woman whispered, "Doc says if we keep talking to him, and doing our best to let him know we're here…"_

" _You mean like when I read my stories to him?" the child asked._

" _Yes. Doc thinks that will help him wake up."_

The thought of this unknown woman and child talking about him like that, bothered him. He couldn't pinpoint _why_ , exactly, but he didn't like it. But it wasn't as easy as he'd thought to actually open his eyes.

Well, start small then. Someone was holding his hand, the woman, he thought. He willed himself to squeeze her hand. The result was disappointing, more a twitch than a squeeze, and had taken a great deal of effort, but a gasp at his bedside told him that it had been noticed.

"He just twitched Teran!" Maiere whispered. Leaning forward, she squeezed her patient's hand and caressed the back of it, saying urgently, "come on, mister. Wake up! I'd love to finally know who it is I've been taking care of all this time."

He took a deep breath, then hesitated at a sharp pain in his side, grunting softly in reaction to it. The woman squeezed his hand again, the contact warm, firm, and supportive. He focused upon it and used it to pull himself up out of the darkness. He tried to squeeze back and was better at it this time, but Gods, he was so weak!

Concentrating again, he tried to open his heavy eyelids. It was hard; it felt like they weighed a ton, but finally he managed to open his eyes. His vision was blurred, and he blinked, trying to clear it. When it did, he was startled to see a young boy, peering eagerly into his face. Had he not been so weak, he'd have flinched back in reaction. As it was, the child's proximity was extremely disconcerting, particularly in his currently enfeebled state.

"Teran, move back a bit, honey. Give him some room." Maiere said softly, not missing the flash of panic in the stranger's eyes at Teran's eager interest. He moved his head slowly to look at her, and Maiere got a startling glimpse of his beautiful ice-blue eyes before he made a small sound and closed them, face contorted in pain.

"Oh, dear. Still hurts, huh? Well, I think it's safe to give you something for the pain." Maiere said, and was rewarded by another glance from him, this one undeniably grateful.

Maiere stood, went over to the IV and adjusted the drip, adding the pain medication that Doc Marlow had given her to use. Just enough to take the edge off, not enough to put him back under again. Her patient's eyes blinked slowly, drowsily, as the medication took effect, then closed as he went back to sleep. _Real_ sleep, this time.

He sank into it easily, and curled up next to his Guardian, comforted by its soft, purring warmth.

_You will wake again tomorrow._ It reassured him gently. _You will heal._ A deep sense of joy from the creature followed that statement.

* * *

It was easier the next time he woke. His head still ached fiercely, as did various other parts of his body. Obviously, he'd been pretty seriously injured doing….something. What though, he could not recall, and this bothered him. He tried moving, carefully, not liking at all how weak he felt.

Moving his head slowly, mindful of its tender state, he tried to look around to see where he was. Upon doing so, he discovered he was in a bedroom, rather than a hospital room, which he found rather odd. Glancing to the side, he saw the IV stand and fluids, the tubing terminating into the back of his right hand. He tried lifting it and pain shot down his arm from the shoulder. He left it lying across his stomach.

Fresh air wafted through an open window next to his bed, ruffling the lightweight, cream-colored draperies. A warm gold and cream color scheme in the wallpaper complemented the curtains. Next to the bed, moved slightly to accommodate the IV stand, was a nightstand with an array of medical appearing items on it, which contrasted oddly with the very homey looking lamp that sat in the center of it. In the corner of the room, beyond the night table, leaned something very odd indeed. A weapon.

He studied it, disturbed at its filth-encrusted state. His memory moved sluggishly, and caused his head to throb, but it identified the type of weapon it was. It was a gunblade… _his_ gunblade. There was more, he knew, but his head was pounding and he couldn't think anymore. He closed his eyes and swallowed, conscious of how dry his mouth was, and…moving his left hand over his ribs, and wincing at the pain…how thin he was.

The pain was getting worse, not only in his head, but other parts of his body; his left leg, his ribs, his shoulder…all setting up a cacophony of agony that had him hoping that the woman would reappear soon to remedy that.

She did, and smiled sympathetically at the look of undisguised relief that he greeted her with.

"Hurting again?" She asked. He hesitated a second, then nodded slowly. She frowned slightly at this. Granted, he'd only been awake for a short time, but she'd thought it long enough for him to have said _something_ by now. He hadn't spoken a word yet on any of the admittedly few and still rather brief moments that he'd been awake. Perhaps he was unable to; aphasia was a common sign of brain injury.

"Well, the doctor will be in soon. He wanted to check on you and was interested in speaking with you if you happened to be awake." _If you are able to speak, that is…_ she thought privately. He sighed at this, and Maiere smiled sympathetically.

"I know, but the medication puts you out, and it's kind of important that we…talk… to you before we give you some. Just hang in there, Dr. Marlow will be here soon." Maiere told him soothingly.

He nodded slightly, and gazed around the room again, shifting uncomfortably, visibly in pain. Maiere studied him closely, while he was awake and alert, watching his responses, his expressions. Feeling more than a little heartened by the bright intelligence that she could see in his eyes.

Dr. Marlow arrived shortly after that, giving his patient a long, considering look before asking Maiere, "So, he's awake. How's he doing? Has he said anything?"

"No, not a word. He's still pretty obviously in pain. He seems alert though, and…." She hesitated, searching for the right words, finally saying, "lucid? No, that's not quite right…um… _there_ , I guess?"

"Hmm." The doctor said, approaching the man's bed and confirming, "You can hear me and understand me?" his patient nodded, slowly, eyes fixed on the doctor. "You obviously can see me." Another nod. "Can you speak?"

The young man licked his lips, glancing at Maiere, then the doctor, and clearing his throat. He tried; he opened his mouth and then frowned. Then he groaned as pain suddenly speared through his cranium, squeezing his eyes shut and collapsing against his pillow, putting his left hand up to his bandaged temple. He gritted his teeth and tried to breathe through it, but a band of pain across his chest prevented him from taking deep breaths. He curled his left hand into a tight fist and did his best to endure the pain, and the nausea that it had brought on.

"Not yet, huh?" the doctor asked kindly. His patient shook his head slightly, face twisted in agony. "Well, you've had a pretty serious head injury. Obviously, not _too_ serious, as you are in fact awake and alert. But serious enough. You've been unconscious for well over a week, long enough that we worried about you ever waking up. There is undoubtedly some brain damage, which likely accounts for your inability to speak at the moment. It may be temporary, it may be permanent. The extent of your brain injury is impossible for me to tell as I haven't got the equipment to do a proper scan. There are some tests that I can do however, now that you're awake and apparently alert enough to hear and understand me, which will help us both to figure out what other kinds of effects, if any, your head injury has had. I know you're hurting right now, but if you'll help me out with this, I can give you some more pain medication and let you continue with your resting and healing process. Okay?" The young man opened his eyes and met the doctor's, then nodded his head.

"Very good. Well then," the doctor sat down next to the bed and held up a pen. "Focus your eyes on this pen, and follow it as I move it." The doctor moved the pen back and forth, up and down, watching his patient's eyes follow it faithfully, and encouraged as they tracked its path unerringly. "Very good. Now, I just need to check your pupillary response," he said, leaning forward and shining a penlight into each eye, watching each pupil contract in response to the light. "Very good," He said, " _very_ good indeed. Now, I need you to raise your left arm as far as you can, and wiggle your fingers." The patient did so, and the doctor said, "now, do it for the other arm, but carefully, and stop when it hurts. I know that it was injured pretty badly, I just need to know that you can move it." The young man did as directed, grunting in pain and stopping with the arm barely twenty centimeters up from where it had been resting upon his stomach.

The doctor continued with his tests, verifying that he could move both legs as well and establishing that his patient's fine motor controls were okay, and that he could swallow without difficulty. Likewise with his hearing and vision; which proved to be normal. Only his speech appeared affected, and that, as he assured his patient, might resolve itself with a bit more rest.

"All right, I think that's all I need for right now, young man. Hopefully, you'll be able to tell me who you are at some point, but don't worry too much about that, just at present. Just worry about healing up. The rest will follow. In the meantime, I think it's safe for you to actually eat your dinner, and have a bit of water by mouth. You'll find that you'll get stronger day by day, and Maiere's fine cooking here will certainly help with that." The doctor told him, administering the pain medication as promised. The young man sighed in relief as the meds took effect, giving the doctor a grateful look.

He fell asleep soon after and drifted back into the sea of drug-induced dreams, curled up with his big, purple, winged lion, and let its purr soothe him.

* * *

Maiere left the bedroom with the doctor, quietly closing the door behind them to allow their patient to rest.

"Well," the doctor said. "He's doing well, all things considered. The aphasia is still a little worrying, but considering that he was deeply comatose for well over a week, he's doing remarkably well. I would still like to get him to Deling City General and get a scan done, just so we can get a better idea of exactly _what_ kind of brain injury he's got. Unfortunately, _getting_ him there, that's going to be the real challenge."

"Yeah, a trip like that, in his condition? He's stable but, you and I both know that his ribs haven't knitted yet, and the rough roads, the distance, the heat… moving him right now would do more harm than good." Maiere sighed. "One good bump could send a rib into his lung; aggravate his head injury, and be just incredibly uncomfortable for him. Unless we could fly him, and I don't know how we'd manage that..."

"Well, the signs I'm seeing so far are encouraging. It's possible that his extended unconsciousness was at least partially due to shock and blood loss on top of the head injury." Dr. Marlow said, adding. "I'm going into Deling City in a few days for more supplies. I'll bring this young man's fingerprints and other particulars with me and turn them over to the DCPD. Maybe he's already been reported missing."

"Maybe. Let's hope he has, and we can get him reunited with his family." Maiere said, sighing as she glanced at the closed door, thinking of the man sleeping on the other side. Feeling her heart ache for how lost he'd looked, when he'd first opened his eyes. And yes, how afraid.

Understandable, considering how disorienting even mild head trauma could be.

"Maiere, I want you to do something for this young man, while he's here. Something that might be a great help to him." The doctor said seriously.

"What?" She asked.

"I want you and your son if you don't mind, to interact with him as much as possible. Talk to him. Have Teran play games with him, that sort of thing. Engage and stimulate him, mentally. I'm not a neurologist, but I think that'll help his recovery." Dr. Marlow told her.

"All right," She nodded, already considering the types of games that she'd suggest Teran attempt to play with the man. Card games, certainly; simple and elementary ones, at least at first. Maybe she'd try him on her tablet to see if he could type, and maybe communicate with him that way, if he never regained the ability to speak. It was interesting however, how adept he was at communicating non-verbally. She wondered at that.

The doctor took his leave after that, and Maiere took a quick look at her patient/guest, finding him sleeping soundly. And peacefully, which relieved her. A couple of times, he'd appeared to have been having a nightmare. Usually, squeezing his hand and whispering something reassuring would help settle him down.

He looked so young, relaxed in sleep. Doc had guessed him at early twenties, but Maiere wasn't so sure. Youthful appearance notwithstanding, she had seen threads of gray in his hair when she had, regretfully, shaved it off in order to aid in caring for his injury. So either he was graying prematurely, which was a possibility, or he was older than he appeared. The only way to know for sure would be to ask him, but getting an _answer_ to that question might have to wait a bit.

It was growing back now as soft, thick, reddish-brown fuzz that had very distinct glints of silver at the temples, particularly in the area of his still healing head injury. He was thin; it was surprising to her how quickly he'd lost weight while unconscious. The intravenous support hadn't been nearly enough for his metabolism, obviously, and they'd debated installing a feeding tube to get some denser nutrition into him. Not an easy thing to do without surgery, but not impossible. Fortunately, he'd awakened before they'd had to take that step.

After taking a quick check of the IV fluids and making sure everything else was okay, Maiere left the man to his rest. It was long past time for her to get dinner together.

* * *

He slept restlessly, mounting discomfort making him shift and move in an attempt to find a more comfortable position. He rolled over onto his left side and a stabbing reminder of his broken ribs moved him onto his back again with a groan. Fully awake now, he sighed, staring around at the darkened and empty room. The woman and her son, now satisfied that he was going to live, no longer kept vigil at his bedside or held his hand while he slept. He found that he missed that contact.

He lifted his left hand and studied the ring that rested on the third finger. Even in the dim light he could still see it's uniquely beautiful design; evidence that he had a wife and if his fuzzy, jumbled memories could be trusted, a child of his own. Somewhere. He might have thought that the woman….Maiere, he dredged the name out of memory with great difficulty… was his wife, the way she cared for him. But there was no spark of recognition when he saw her, and the only thing he saw in her eyes was concern for his well-being… and nothing more.

They would ask him questions; it was only reasonable that they should. But as he thought of the kinds of questions that they'd ask, and the information he'd need to provide, the more frightened he became as he came up….blank. On _all_ of it.

He fought down panic as he tried, ignoring the increasingly painful throb of his head, to dredge up anything that would provide the information that these people would need in order to get him home. He cudgeled his poor brain to the point that he was nearly sobbing from the pain and frustration. And still…nothing.

His mind was a patchy mess full of holes and blank spots. The ring he wore provided evidence that he had a wife, but he could not recall her name or her face. He had a child, but didn't know if it was a son or a daughter or if he had one of each. He remembered fighting, he remembered using his gunblade, and wearing the uniform of a SeeD; He was a mercenary. But he could not, no matter how hard he tried, remember what his rank was, or his name.

"No…." he whispered. He could speak now at least, but it did him no good. He could not remember his name. _He could not remember his name!_

He closed his eyes and sank into his pillows, putting his left hand against his aching head, and wept silently.

_Where am I? WHO am I?_

"Dammit!" he whispered, slamming his balled fist ineffectually against the mattress, repeating "Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!" over and over again in an anguished whisper, his voice breaking in a sob on the last word. He didn't want to wake the entire household while he had a mental breakdown.

"Hey, mister? Are you okay?" a child's voice whispered from close by.

He snapped his head around to look at the child with a startled gasp, and was almost immediately blinded by an excruciating bloom of pain that seemed to fill his entire head.

He groaned and cursed softly, eyes closed.

"Hey! You can talk now!" the boy whispered excitedly, coming closer. Then he whispered confidingly, "but you really shouldn't ought to use words like that. My mama doesn't like it."

"Sorry," he whispered, opening his eyes to see that the child had seated himself in the chair at his bedside. "Did I wake you?"

"Nah. I had to go potty." The boy tilted his head and peered closely at him, then asked, "Were you hurting again? I heard you crying."

His cheeks bloomed with embarrassed heat as he answered, "yeah."

"Here," the boy reached for a box of tissues and helpfully handed one to the young man.

"Thanks," he said, taking the tissue from the boy and wiping his damp eyes and cheeks, then blowing his nose.

"I'll go get my mom. She'll make the pain go away." The boy said decisively, getting up from the chair.

The man was torn; he didn't want the kid to wake his mother in the middle of the night…come to think of it what time was it, anyway? But he really _was_ hurting, physically as well as emotionally. And at least one of those could be remedied with medication.

Before he left however, the boy paused and asked, "Hey, what's your name anyway? Mine's Teran."

The man swallowed and looked away, answering softly, "I don't remember."

"You don't remember your name? Really? Like on those medical shows my mom watches sometimes?" Teran asked, amazed.

"I guess." The man replied, sounding tired.

"Oh." The boy said, and appeared to consider this, then said, "Well, if you can't remember your name, can I give you one?"

The man returned his attention to the boy, Teran, and shrugged slightly, "if you want." Well, they had to call him _something_. He found that he didn't really care what.

"Well…" the boy said, thinking hard. "I'm gonna call you Knight."

"Night?"

"No. KNIGHT," the boy corrected, spelling it out for him. "Because of your sword. Only a knight carries a sword like that."

"It's a gunblade," the man…now called Knight, informed Teran. The word engendered an odd thrill of familiarity within him, and he wondered at that. It wasn't _actually_ his name, was it?

He didn't think so, but his pounding headache made it very difficult for him to think at all, and he fervently wished that the boy would hurry and get his mother over to administer more pain medication.

"Oh. Well, I'll be right back."

"Thanks," Knight said, closing his eyes and trying to relax. Fatigue dragged at him but his discomfort made him wakeful. Hopefully, once the medications took effect, he could once again fall into blissful rest. He needed that oblivion. Even with the nightmares that often plagued him, he managed to rest. Of course the lion-guardian helped by warding off the worst of them.

A touch on his arm drew him from the state of almost-sleep that he'd drifted into.

"Teran tells me you're hurting?" Maiere asked him. "He also says that you can speak now?"

Knight nodded. "Yes. I don't know why I couldn't before. I could _think_ the words…at least once I'd gotten a bit more awake but…it was like they just got …stuck."

"Hmmm. Well, you've gotten a pretty bad head injury. Hard to tell what damage was done and how you'll heal. Only thing that will tell you that is time." Maiere said, checking the IV bags and administering the medication he needed.

Sitting down next to him after she'd finished, she asked gently, "Teran also tells me that you can't remember your name?"

"No. I can't." Knight sighed and looked away, pain ebbing away as the meds took effect. "He calls me Knight. I suppose you'll have to call me something…."

Maiere snorted softly, "My son has a real fascination for knights and dragons. To be honest, I'd been thinking of you as 'Rheon', at least until you woke and I could ask you your actual name."

"Rheon?" Knight asked, starting to feel drowsy.

Maiere smiled slightly, noticing his heavy eyes and slurring speech, and clarified, "It's Old Centran for lion. Because of your pendant."

"Oh. Well, I suppose there's worse things to be called than 'Rheon Knight'." He said, eyes closing and drifting back to sleep.

Maiere watched him sleep for a few moments, hoping that he could recover his memories as his brain healed. It sometimes happened like that, amnesia, like aphasia, was a relatively common side effect of brain trauma. Sometimes the patient was able to recover fully. Sometimes they were not. Only time and patience would tell.

Yawning softly, she finally stood up to leave, whispering, "Good night, Rheon."


	2. M.I.A.

Missing In Action. That was the official term for someone who'd gone missing while engaged in a military action. Missing. Not dead. As in, "we don't know where he is, and since we haven't found a body, can't actually say he's dead," even when all evidence points to exactly that. Without a body, no confirmation of death can be made. Pure and simple.

Squall was missing. Not dead. Rinoa knew that without any doubt; she could _feel_ him. He was still alive. Somewhere. But for some reason, Rinoa could not get him to respond to her and tell her _where_. It was as though he couldn't "hear" her through their link, or perhaps he was unconscious. That thought frightened her. Unconscious meant injured, and as the days passed with no response to her, she began to worry that he _would_ die before he was found.

He was alive; she held to that lifeline as hard as she could, and refused to think that this evidence of life might be….finite. It made her desperate to find him before he _did_ die. For a number of reasons.

The way their mindlink was behaving however wasn't helping. She knew that Squall would block her out when he went on missions; they didn't share absolutely _everything_ , and Rinoa understood that while he was working he often could not share with her what he was doing until it was done. But that block shouldn't have remained in place if he was injured. The fact that it still was confused her.

Ellone was having even less success in connecting with him than Rinoa, which was not at all comforting.

"Mrs. Leonhart?" a young SeeD, Squall's aide and an altogether nice young man, addressed her. He carried a cup of hot tea, liberally sugared and lightened with a splash of milk.

She directed her attention to him and smiled, then sighed inwardly as the young man blushed. He _might_ be in his early twenties, but certainly didn't look it. He looked all of sixteen and was obviously crushing hard on her. She hoped his crush wouldn't stop him from fulfilling his _real_ function, should it be required. Squall …. _and_ Rinoa….had chosen the young man carefully for a specific purpose. One that she hoped would not be necessary. If they found Squall in time, it wouldn't be.

"Thank you, Rieve." She said, taking the tea from him and sipping it, feeling it warm the lump of ice that had taken up residence in her stomach. "Have you…heard anything?" she asked hesitantly.

"Nothing yet ma'am. We _do_ know that he accomplished his objective, but that's _all_ we know right now. The…" he cleared his throat uncomfortably, "the….ret… _rescue_ team…they've just reached his last reported location and are tracking him from there. We'll know more when they do."

Rinoa smiled kindly at the young man as she sipped her tea. She'd heard the slip. He'd almost said _retrieval_ instead of rescue. They still thought they were searching for a body, despite Rinoa's assurances that Squall was still alive, just lost. _Lost…like I am, without you. Please, please Squall…Please hear me?_

She closed her eyes and reached for him again, feeling the sting of tears as she came up against the barrier once more. She touched it, running her mental "hands" over it. It was smooth, impenetrable, and opaque. She could pierce through it if she truly wanted to but something held her back, a sense that it would do him harm if she did so.

"Are you all right Mrs. Leonhart?" Rieve asked her.

"I'm fine. Just tired. Are the twins home from school yet?" She asked him. She already knew the answer; she was just making conversation in an effort to distract herself.

"Yes, they've already taken charge of Misty. They're in the playroom right now with her." He answered.

"I'll be going then. I'm tired and….And I need them." She said, draining her tea and standing up, stretching her back. Fatigue always seemed to gather there, more and more every year. Despite the fact that to the rest of the world, Rinoa still looked to be in her twenties, she was a good bit older, and sometimes, she _felt_ every damn year of it.

Not that she or Squall were all that old, really, though she guessed she had at least ten years on Rieve. She wondered if he was aware of that. She supposed it really didn't matter, in the final analysis. Squall had killed _his_ first sorceress at age seventeen, after all.

 _That wasn't the plan Rinoa, and you know it. He's there to stabilize you and help you get to Esthar. Give the kids over to Laguna and you….to a tomb of ice. He's not to kill you unless he has no other choice. If the bond doesn't take, if the Odine bangle can't contain you…_ a very real possibility. Her powers had grown exponentially over the years, through practice and refinement, though she never used it offensively anymore. She was easily more powerful than both Edea and Adel combined had been.

It was a dangerous plan, and one neither Squall nor she liked. Rieve would essentially have to take Squall's place as knight, at least temporarily, and help her get to Esthar to be sealed. She wondered if she wouldn't rather he just killed her instead. Or…perhaps just let her die with her husband.

But then that would leave open the whole question of who would inherit her powers, and Rinoa was terrified that the power would follow the Leonhart bloodline and fall to Julia. She would rather spend eternity in cryostasis than force her daughter to become a sorceress at twelve. But that was only _one_ reason, and while an important one, not the main one…

Smoothing her hands down over her protruding abdomen, she felt the baby stir and settle again. _He_ was the main reason they had come up with this plan. Keep her sane, keep her contained, until their surprise baby could be born. Another son. Rinoa and Squall had already picked out a name for him. Tempest Fury. The sense she had of his developing personality told her that the name was a fitting one.

She saw Rieve's gaze soften as he asked, "Baby okay?"

"He's fine. You'll let me know, the minute anything changes?" she asked him.

"Yes."

"Good night then Rieve," she said, walking toward the door.

Out of habit, without even thinking, she mentally reached for Squall….and staggered as a wash of confusion and pain hit her. Her knees buckled and she cried out, momentarily blinded by the onslaught. It was blocked out again an instant later, leaving Rinoa gasping and shaking, tears rolling down her cheeks. Rieve held her supported, a mixture of fear, concern and grim determination on his face. One of his hands supported her elbow and she leaned against him, while the other….

The other held an Odine bangle.

"Ri-Mrs. Leonhart?" He asked, eyes searching hers, worried.

"I'm….I'm okay. It's okay Rieve," she said shakily, trying to tamp down the urge to fall into a sobbing heap at his feet.

"Should I get Dr. Kadowaki?" he asked.

"No. I just need to get home and rest." Rinoa answered, sniffling and wiping at her eyes. She could fall apart there without scaring onlookers into thinking that she was going to go Insane Sorceress on them all. Rieve handed her a tissue and she thanked him as she wiped her eyes and blew her nose.

"I should walk you home," the young man said. "You don't look at all steady."

Taking a deep breath, she shook her head, "No. I'll be ok." She stepped away from him and gave him a slight smile, "you don't need the bangle yet. He's not dead. Just….hurt." her voice broke on that last word and she turned away before the young SeeD could see the tears welling in her eyes again.

Then she forced her rubbery, shaky knees to bear her up and continue walking her out the door. She shoved the pain and fear and everything else that she was assaulted with in that brief, intense contact, to the back of her mind. She still had to bear up and remain calm for the kids; Saber, Julia and Misty were all as worried as Rinoa about their daddy. And they were all sensitives, so her emotional state would feed into theirs, though Julia and Saber now were old enough to exercise some control over it and now had pretty decent barriers.

She would have to put off falling apart and sobbing herself into insensibility for after the children were in bed.

* * *

Despite Rinoa's certainty that she would not sleep, her body's needs as dictated by the baby she carried within her dragged her deeply into slumber. Deep enough to have strange dreams. She was wandering the flower field near the old orphanage in Centra, a carpet of red, pink, and white blooms at her feet and petals drifting like feathers in the wind. The sunlight had the hazy golden quality of a late summer sunset; the very spot and time of day that Squall had proposed marriage to her.

She looked around for him, but he wasn't there. She was confused for a moment. Was this the moment that she'd found him dying after the battle with Ultimecia, or the one he'd proposed? Was Squall still lost in time?

_I'll be waiting….here… if you come here, you'll find me…._

She started running through the field, heart pounding, hoping she'd find him lying in the flowers, hoping she'd be able to bring him back…calling for him and willing him to answer. When he did not, her strength left her and she sank to her knees in the flowers, sobbing helplessly.

_Squall…oh, Squall I need you so much…I should never have let you convince me to stay behind…._

She woke alone in the wee hours of the morning, cheeks wet with tears. A glance at the empty space beside her that Squall used to occupy brought on more tears, and she curled up on her side, buried her face in her pillow and wept silently.

Only her certainty that he lived; unshakeable as the days passed with no word on his fate, helped her hold together. Rieve, the kids, they helped of course, though in Rieve's case, his support was tempered by wariness. It was as though he was watching her and waiting…. Waiting for the sorceress to awaken and destroy everything and everyone.

Dr. Kadowaki had been kind enough to give Rinoa a leave of absence while they were searching for Squall. Rinoa knew it was as much because of what his condition might possibly be when they found him as her current emotional state. She wasn't able to concentrate fully on her job and was relieved to have that responsibility suspended for the time being. But the enforced idleness was almost worse.

She did what she could to keep busy so that she wouldn't dwell on her fears, her loneliness… she missed Squall desperately and felt completely helpless and useless. Unable to reach him through their bond, she was also unable to track him, so had no way of even knowing which direction to look for him. She only knew, from the brief contact that she'd had before it was blocked out, that he was confused, afraid and in pain, a state that she'd never felt from him before. She'd felt him get injured before, had felt his pain and his anger at having been so clumsy as to get hurt. She'd felt him confused when delirious with fever; an uncommon occurrence for him, since he rarely got sick, but it _did_ happen, most notably if he was exposed to poison. But the mixture of confusion and helpless fear that she'd felt from him was new, and it broke her heart that she could not offer him any comfort.

Rieve was kind enough to bring her updates with her morning coffee as he checked in on her. He was very good at his job, and Rinoa had to give him points for being _there_ without hovering or being too obviously concerned for her state of mind. He already knew enough to simply take a long look directly into her eyes when he spoke to her, and not seeing the amber glow of her power in them, to let her be.

As the days became one week, then two and more, however, with no change in the news that filtered from the searchers, Rinoa found it harder and harder not to give in to despair.

"Mrs. Leonhart?" Rieve asked, entering her apartment at her invitation. He handed her a cup of tea and cleared his throat, tapping a sheaf of papers nervously against his thigh.

"Good morning Rieve," Rinoa said, crossing the apartment to the dining room table and sitting down, inviting the young man to do the same. Then she asked "Anything new?"

Glancing down at the table and smoothing the papers he'd been carrying, Rieve answered carefully, "Maybe. The crew's finally found what they think was Squall's last location."

"Is he…there?" Rinoa asked, swallowing. Surely not. If he'd been injured, he _had_ to have been receiving some kind of aid; he would have died by now, otherwise. Therefore, _someone_ had moved him from that location. If that in fact was the case, then they should be able to track where he'd gone or had been taken to from there.

Rieve shook his head, answering, "No. But we did find the bodies of his team, and of the members of the cell he'd been sent to track down. We also found a lot of blood where we think he….fell. But you're right, no body. There's a clear trail leading away from the battlefield though, and they're busy working out what happened and tracking down where he might be now." Reaching out, he took her hand and squeezed it gently before letting go, adding quietly, "We're getting close, I can feel it. We _will_ find him. It's just a matter of time now."

Rinoa nodded, smiling anxiously at him, "I hope you're right." She took a sip of her tea and sighed. "Thank you Rieve."

He took his leave moments later, leaving Rinoa alone with her thoughts. Laguna had been apprised of the situation, and was willingly taking charge of his grandchildren for the week in order to give Rinoa some breathing space. It wasn't a chore for them to spend time with "Poppa Laguna" in Winhill, and it would be a welcome distraction from missing and worrying about their father. Rinoa was doing more than enough of that for all of them.

She was torn however; she vacillated between feeling guilty and inadequate at pawning her children off on their grandfather, even though he'd sounded as though he'd needed them as badly as they needed him, and feeling selfish for wanting to cling to them for emotional support. _She_ should be the strong one, the rock. Her children should be able to lean upon _her_ , not the reverse.

The one person that she _did_ lean on when she needed it was the one that was currently missing from her life.

She had friends of course, she wasn't entirely alone. Selphie and Quistis both had been frequent visitors, generously allowing her to dampen their shoulders on a regular basis, whenever she had need. Without them, she'd have….she didn't know _what_ she'd have done, though dark madness beckoned. But…. _he's_ not _dead. HE IS NOT DEAD. I can still feel him…I just can't….TOUCH him…._

It was almost worse, being able to sense his presence but not connect with him, communicate with him…on the one hand, it reassured her that he was still alive, and on the other it made her fear even more for his condition.

_Why can't you hear me? Why can't I reach you? Please, Squall…Please answer me?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well then, rather a short chapter this time out, from Rinoa's POV this time... next one is Squall's and so on.. next update should be fairly soon...possibly. maybe. There's still a couple of other stories I'm working on, and I'll endeavor to update at least one of them soon..


	3. Puzzle Pieces

"I think it's time you got out of bed, Rheon." Maiere declared.

Rheon raised his eyebrows and said, "Okay, if you say so." He was more than willing to give it a try; he was feeling better, but nowhere near as strong as he vaguely remembered being. And there was the matter of his broken leg to consider. At least the headaches and dizziness were gone, so he could sit up without the threat of losing his lunch. Or breakfast, or dinner.

"I do. You need to start moving around a little, and I need to change the bedsheets. Win-win, right?" She said, approaching the bed with a robe in her arms. "Here, just in case you feel the need for modesty."

"Thanks," Rheon said, taking it with a wry quirk to his lips. Then he asked, "are you going to take this tube thing out of my…?"

"Sure, when you show me you can get to the bathroom on your own."

"Unplug me then and give me a crutch or something." He responded, starting to pull the robe on. He struggled a bit with his bad shoulder before giving up and simply pulling the robe over it.

"How about you just try standing for a minute?" she suggested, moving closer to the bed just in case.

"What about..." he glanced downward then returned his gaze to her.

"Okay. Should have it out by now anyway. Hold still, and take a deep breath. And keep in mind, this is nothing personal." Maiere said, pulling the bedding back to expose him, then quickly removing his catheter. A quick intake of breath and an audible swallow was Rheon's response.

"Nothing personal, she says," he muttered. At the moment, he couldn't think of anything _more_ personal than having plastic tubing pulled out of his penis. In fact, the care she'd given him while he'd been convalescing had been _all kinds_ of personal. Mortifyingly so.

Maiere smiled slightly at that and came around the bed to the other side once she'd dealt with the tubing. He'd already had his IV's removed days ago and appeared to be managing solid food fairly well. Of course, "solid food" in this case was essentially infant cereal (though she was careful not to tell him this; she doubted he'd take it well. He seemed the sort that wouldn't). He didn't much care for it, really, but managed it anyway, and he _did_ appear to be getting stronger. If he continued to improve she would try him on regular food.

"Here, let me help you with that," Maiere said, helping him get the robe on over his injured shoulder. He grimaced in pain at an injudicious movement and drew the edges of the robe together with his left hand and tying it.

"Are you ready?" she asked. He nodded. Maiere took a deep breath and steadied herself, planting her feet firmly; she'd have to support him if he started to fall, and while he was rather thin at the moment, he still weighed more than she did.

"Okay, slowly. And if you feel dizzy or feel like you need to sit down, let me know."

"All right." He replied. He'd been able to sit up okay for a few days, but the effort of even shifting around to put his feet on the floor left him feeling disconcertingly weak. Suddenly, he began to wonder if he even _could_ stand, particularly as he'd have to put all his weight on one leg.

"When you're ready." Maiere said calmly.

He appreciated that about her; he was having enough difficulties with his currently weakened state without someone else's opinions and concerns weighing in. She didn't coddle him though, another thing he appreciated…sometimes. She was tough when she needed to be and compassionate when _he_ needed her to be. In short, she was a great nurse, and for the life of him, Rheon couldn't figure out why she bothered when she surely had better things to do than acting nursemaid to _him_.

He took a deep breath and gathered himself, bracing his hand on her shoulder. She grasped it with one of her own and stood firm. Gritting his teeth, he levered himself upright, balancing shakily on one leg and a nurse. Somehow, between the two of them, they managed to maneuver him into a chair next to the bed, and he all but collapsed there gratefully, trembling and sweating, black spots starting to dance before his eyes.

"Fuck." He whispered breathlessly, closing his eyes and grimacing as each breath sent stabbing pains though his still healing ribcage.

"Slow, shallow breaths," Maiere advised. "Relax. Your ribs are knitting nicely but they're not quite healed yet."

Leaning into the backrest of the chair, Rheon simply concentrated on breathing, feeling incredibly drained and more than a little frustrated because of it. He eventually became aware of rustling sounds; she'd apparently started stripping the bed. For some reason, that sound pulled at him, and suddenly….

_He was in a sun-filled bedroom, sneaking up behind his wife as she was remaking the bed with fresh linens. She snapped the topsheet out and watched it drift slowly onto the bed, settling as lightly as thistledown almost perfectly onto the mattress. As it settled down and she released it, he slipped his arms around her waist, burying his face in her hair, breathing in her scent, before making her shiver by pressing a kiss beneath her earlobe…_

A touch at his shoulder pulled him out of his dream…or memory….with a gasp.

"Rheon?" Maiere asked, gazing at him searchingly. "Are you okay?"

He simply stared at her blankly for a moment, still caught up in his…whatever it was….before licking at his dry lips and nodding slowly. "Yeah. Did I… Did I fall asleep?"

"It looked like it." She tilted head and studied him. "I think we should get you back into bed."

"I move two meters…not even two meters to sit down in a chair and I'm practically passing out," Rheon grumbled as he struggled to his feet, teeth gritted. Maiere hauled him upward and lent her support to get him back into the bed, a feat accomplished to the tune of Rheon's quietly muttered curses. He settled back into the bed, smooth and cool now with clean linens, in mingled relief and chagrin.

"Well, consider this," Maiere said with an eyebrow raised. "A month ago, you were nearly dead. You had lost more blood than I'd ever seen a man lose and still survive. You had several broken bones and a head injury that neither I nor the doctor thought that you'd recover from. All things considered, the fact is, you're coming out of this in much better shape than either of us expected. Give it time. You're doing great but you need to be patient."

"Fine," he said, fatigue and the strangeness left behind by his dream-vision making him petulant. Then he added, "Is there any way that I could get a pair of shorts or something? I'm sure you're tired of looking at my junk by now." He clamped his lips shut as he belatedly heard the quavering whine in his voice.

Maiere smiled slightly at this, and answered, "I'll see what I can do, but you may have to use… _that_ ….if you don't want the catheter back." _That_ was a plastic jug specifically constructed for someone unable to manage a trip to the bathroom.

Rheon sighed, "Just don't get it confused with the water pitcher…" Maiere snorted in amusement.

"Well, if nothing else, it offers some incentive for you to get more mobile." She replied. Rheon simply glared at her tiredly and closed his eyes.

He drifted off into sleep soon after, with Maiere checking in on him after a while. She watched him for a moment, as he slept, and wondered at his momentary distraction earlier. He must have had a pleasant dream, and Maiere had felt somewhat guilty for pulling him out of it. He'd looked so relaxed, and peaceful, and….happy…. it had transformed his appearance. The harsh angles and lines of pain that was very much in evidence when he was awake had softened and faded, making him look even younger than he had initially appeared.

From the way he'd spoken about her, and his anguished frustration at still being unable to recall her name, Maiere could only conclude that he loved his wife deeply. And just as obviously, missed her desperately. He might not remember _everything_ about her, but he remembered the most _important_ thing: he remembered their love. Watching him sleep, Maiere came to a decision. She would tell him about the name she'd seen tattooed on his backside during the course of caring for him. Perhaps it was _her_ name and maybe, it would help him to remember her, and then….maybe that would lead him back to _himself_. She hoped so, anyway.

* * *

"You're looking better. Ribs still sore?" Dr. Marlowe asked during his check-up a few days later, probing them gently and taking note of the young man's flinch and intake of breath.

"Yeah." Rheon answered.

"Takes a few weeks for bones to knit, and you're about halfway through. You can start moving around a bit but take it easy. Now, I've got a walking cast for your leg, so it'll be a little easier for you to be mobile, but you might still need a cane for support until you're a little stronger." The doctor said, proceeding to remove the cast that was currently on his leg and examining the skin, the bone and the muscles, noting how much they'd atrophied.

Then Maiere, acting as his assistant, had proceeded to wash and dry the leg prior to it being fitted for the walking cast. The leg still ached, and when asked to slowly move his ankle and wiggle his toes, pain shot up his shin, making him grit his teeth and groan in reaction.

The doctor gently probed the area of the break, commenting, "this appears to be healing nicely too. Good thing it was a clean break."

Most of the visit was Dr. Marlowe checking Rheon's physical status, which, as he observed, was almost miraculously good, considering where he'd started. He went over some physical therapy exercises for Rheon's shoulder and leg, and Maiere showed him the icepack that she made up and would keep in the freezer for his use.

"Well, your body seems to be doing okay," the doctor said. "How's the head? Headaches, dizziness, blurry vision, anything like that still happening?"

"Not really," Rheon answered. "I do still get headaches and dizzy spells, but not as often as before."

"Have you noticed any discernable pattern to their occurrence?" the doctor asked.

"No, not really." Rheon answered.

The doctor made a noncommittal noise, then sat down in the chair next to the bed where Rheon was sitting, frowning thoughtfully. The initial head injury had healed, the torn skin stitched and now healed into a thin scar. The hair that had been shorn away to facilitate that healing was growing back, though the scar was still visible. Interestingly enough, the hair that was growing in around the site of the injury appeared to be coming in _white_. When all was said and done and it had grown back completely, Rheon would likely end up with a white stripe at his right temple.

Finally the doctor asked, "What about your memories? From what I've observed and what you've told me, your short-term memory seems to be unaffected. Are you still unable to recall what brought you here?"

Rheon's expression, once relaxed, tensed at this question and he answered, "No."

"What about details about your past? I know you've told me some of what you remember, but it was patchy and you couldn't recall certain pertinent details. Have any new recollections surfaced?" the doctor asked.

"I had a…brief flash… a few days ago. At least, I think it was. I'm still not sure if it was a dream or a memory." Rheon answered.

"Dreams _are_ memories, for the most part. It's your mind's way of sorting out and storing the information it's gathered for the day," the doctor said, leaning forward. "Tell me about this dream...and any others you've had."

Rheon's attention turned inward and he said, "I've had it…a lot, this dream, if that's even what it is. I'm in a field of flowers, sunset's turning everything all golden, and it's beautiful. It was the day I asked my wife to marry me but…then it's not. I mean, she's standing there, in the flower field, with her back to me but then I see…wings of light….growing from her shoulders. It looks like my wife from the back but the wings…she looks like an angel. I want to call out to her, I want her to turn around so I can see if it's really her but….I can't. Nothing comes out. I want to call her name but I can't; I want to see her face, but….and I don't know what it all means. Does it mean that my wife is dead and she's actually an angel, trying to guide me to something? Is it just that I _think_ of her as an angel… _my_ angel…and that's the image my mind conjures up? And I remember so many things: I remember the sound of her laughter, how she felt in my arms, how soft her hair is, and the taste of her kiss…" Rheon suddenly stopped and swallowed, eyes bright with unshed tears, then took a deep, shaking breath and continued. "I…remember _all_ of that. I remember how much I love her but….I can't for the life of me remember her name or her goddam _face_!"

The doctor sat silently for a moment, then looked over at Maiere and said, "Tell him."

Rheon narrowed his eyes and glanced from the doctor to Maiere and back, asking, "Tell me what?"

Maiere didn't answer him right away, instead addressing the doctor, asking, "Do you think it'll help?"

The doctor shrugged, "It can't hurt. It appears he doesn't have _complete_ retrograde amnesia; he can access _some_ memories of times prior to his injury. But they're confused, spotty. He could definitely use a bit more help with sorting them out."

"Tell me what?" Rheon repeated, becoming impatient.

"You have a tattoo on your left butt cheek. I think it's a name." Maiere answered him.

Rheon's mouth suddenly went dry and he had to swallow several times before he could ask, "What's the name?"

"Rinoa." Maiere answered, watching him closely.

_Rinoa._ At first, there was nothing. No spark of recognition, and Rheon's heart plummeted. Was it perhaps an old girlfriend's name? If so, why hadn't he changed it or removed it when he got married? Unless… _Unless it WAS his wife's name…_

" _I love you Rinoa. Forever. Marry me?"_

_Golden sunlight spilled over a brilliant riot of wildflowers. Petals somehow had gotten scattered over the blanket that they lay on, and the remains of their largely ignored picnic lunch. A sweet breeze drifted in from the nearby seashore and….Rinoa….gazed up at him with tears in her eyes and whispered, "Yes."_

Maiere's eyes met the doctor's in alarm as Rheon suddenly went dead white and he squeezed his eyes shut, holding his head in his hands and moaning in pain.

"Rheon? What's going on?" the doctor asked him.

Rheon did his best to open his eyes to glare at the doctor but only managed to squint at him before closing them again and gritting out, "My fucking head hurts and I feel like I'm going to throw up."

"Okay. Here, take a couple of these and lie down for a bit." The doctor said, handing Rheon two pills. Maiere handed him a glass of water and he took the medication, draining the glass as well.

Rheon lay back down on his bed, face still pale and sheened with sweat, and opened his eyes a slit, commenting, " _Worst_ headache yet." Then closing them again.

"Does the light hurt your eyes?" Maiere asked, meeting the doctor's eyes. Rheon's lips tightened and he nodded.

"It's a migraine. It'll pass. You just need to rest." Maiere said calmly, drawing the curtains closed and darkening the room as much as she could.

"Thank you," Rheon murmured. He dimly registered the fact that they left, closing the door softly behind them. Blessed silence closed in and he sank into it gratefully, head throbbing like a beating heart.

* * *

The lion-guardian was waiting for him. Rheon walked up to him and buried his face in the soft mane, hoping to find some refuge there, but the pain followed him. Pain…and memories. The guardian held him anchored so that he wouldn't become lost in the confused flood of images that featured the woman…the _angel_ … he now knew as Rinoa, his wife. Images that brought tears and threatened to break his heart at the same time: Rinoa, swelling with pregnancy, then lying white and still in a hospital bed. Rinoa, her eyes glowing with golden light and incandescent wings spreading from her shoulders, an archangel, ready for battle. Rinoa, seated in a rocking chair in the dim, gray light of early morning, raven hair tousled around her shoulders, breastfeeding a tiny infant. His son.

He remembered…Dancing with her. Fighting for her. Fighting alongside her. Fighting _with_ her. Saving her, and being saved _by_ her. He remembered marrying her, kissing her. Making love with her. He remembered the promises he'd made to her. _All_ of them.

_I'll be waiting…. If you come here, you'll find me…_

As those memories returned, he sensed joy in the dream-guardian, and he wondered at it.

_You are healing_ , it told him, purring happily and butting its head against him affectionately. _We will_ _soon be whole again._

_I don't understand. Aren't you just a dream-guardian?_ Rheon asked.

_I am considerably more than that, though I have acted in that capacity in order to help you to heal. I've had to block your mind out from the confusion that threatened to fragment it entirely. I have been protecting your mind, while your body was healing. I am considerably more than simply a dream-guardian… as are these others that you see in here with me. We all exist symbiotically within your mind. Call upon us, and we can give you our strength_. The Guardian said. Then it asked, _Can you remember my name?_

_Griever! Make them bleed!_

He started back from the guardian with a gasp, then frowned. It did not match the image that had accompanied that recollection. Nor did he sense any aggression from it, not now, not ever.

_Not_ yet. _That is from a different time. This is my form before it was….changed._

_Your name is…Griever._

_Yes_. It acknowledged.

Rheon looked at the other presences…guardians…that gathered around Griever. He sensed eagerness from them.

_Do…you remember me, master?_ One of them stepped forward, eyes glittering sadly. It was the Ice Queen; an ice elemental that Rheon now recalled his long association with.

_S…Shiva?_ Rheon asked. She nodded happily and flung her arms around him, her cool embrace soothing the pain that still plagued him.

He looked at the remaining entities; one, a majestic dragon of steel blue and scarlet, and the other….a blurred, vaguely female shape that gave the impression of great age and immense power. Their names swam to the surface of his mind and he captured them before they could retreat, speaking them aloud so as to fix them in his mind.

_Bahamut. King of Dragons. And…Eden. Mother of all Guardians_. He said. Bahamut bowed its head, acknowledging its name, and Eden nodded once.

Rheon reached out and touched the Dragon-guardian, saying, _So, you're real…not just parts of my imagination?_

_We inhabit the physical plane only briefly. Our link to your mind provides us a gateway to your dimension. This…junction…allows us to give you strength and the ability to utilize magic, as well as the ability to call upon us to assist you in battle._ Griever explained.

Rheon _remembered_. Calling out the name of the dragon, Bahamut, and watching as the creature wreaked fiery havoc on whatever target he chose… Rheon shuddered and shied away from that memory, one of many that were darker, bloodier, and more violent. What sort of man had he been that an angel would marry _him_?

He would have left then, retreated from them, but Griever would not allow it. _You have nowhere to go to escape these memories, and to try is to become lost once again. You must accept both the darkness and the light within you in order to regain your true self. To abandon the worst is to deny the best._

_You are what fate has made you, Master._ Shiva told him softly.

_What HAS fate made me?_ He wondered.

_You will arrive at that conclusion in due time_ , Griever told him. Then it looked back for a moment, gazing at something that Rheon could not see. _She calls for you. Will you answer her?_

Returning its attention to Rheon, Griever waited, gazing serenely at him with glowing azure eyes.

_She?_ Rheon asked, wondering if it was his wife that the Guardian was referring to.

_Your mate. She has been calling but I could not let you hear her until you were strong enough to answer her. Will you answer her now?_ Griever asked again.

_Rinoa. Her name is Rinoa, right?_ Rheon asked, suddenly feeling unsure.

_Yes_.

_I still don't remember who_ I _am._

_You will._

Rheon hesitated. Despite the Guardian's assurances that this place where he'd been speaking to it and the other guardians was somehow real, and not a dream, he found it difficult to believe it. But….if it gave him the memory of Rinoa's face, her beautiful smile, put an image to the music of her laugh…then he would believe, and try somehow, to answer the voice that sighed on the wind in this strange place inside his mind.

_How do I answer her?_ He wondered.

_Look upon your finger._ Griever told him.

Rheon looked, and frowned at seeing a golden thread, wrapped around his left ring finger underneath his wedding band. The thread hung from his finger onto the ground, snaking off into the distance. Had that been there the whole time, with him unaware of it, or had his guardian put it there just now to guide him?

_That is your tie to each other. Your bond. Follow it, and you will find her._

* * *

The knight, Rheon, wasn't feeling well, and Teran was worried. His mother told him that he was still healing, and having a bunch of memories suddenly hit him all at once was a little overwhelming, and he needed rest to sort it out. Teran could kind of understand…he'd had a bad flu once, and his head had hurt every time he'd tried to think, so he'd spent most of his time sleeping. Rheon slept a lot too. But he _was_ getting better, and that made Teran happy. The fact that the card games and mind-teasers that they'd played together had helped made Teran even happier.

They didn't play for very long at first; Rheon was very weak and tired easily. But he gradually got stronger and stayed awake longer, and they'd play cards, read stories or just talk. Teran told him all about his mom, and his dad, and how much they both missed him and uncle Brend. Rheon didn't talk much at first, even when he regained the ability to speak. Teran thought it was maybe because Rheon couldn't remember enough about himself to talk about.

But he _did_ listen, and Teran found that having someone's undivided attention, especially if that someone was an adult, albeit a damaged one…was a very novel concept. Not that his mother _didn't_ pay attention to him; but she was busy being a mom, and a nurse, and sometimes Teran felt a bit lost in the daily shuffle. So, he'd come and spend time with Rheon if he wasn't sleeping.

It made him feel good that Rheon was healing and that he was playing a small part in it. He wished that Rheon remembered more things about himself; he would have liked to know if he had a son and how old the boy was. But Teran wasn't so self-focused that he couldn't see the lost look in the man's eyes whenever he talked to him about family stuff. He wished he could help him to remember.

But it was getting on toward dinner, and if Rheon was to get stronger, he had to eat. At least that's what his mom kept saying.

Teran hesitated in the bedroom doorway, peering into the darkened room, trying to see if Rheon was awake or asleep. His mom had wanted him to check to see if Rheon would feel up to perhaps venturing downstairs for dinner for a change. That prospect excited Teran. She'd been adamant however about _not_ waking him if he was asleep because of his … mi-graine headache.

"Teran?" Rheon's sleep thickened voice sounded from the darkness. A rustle sounded from the bedding as he shifted. "What did you need?"

"Um…are you feeling okay? Its dinner time and mama wanted to know if you were feeling up to it." Teran asked.

Rheon sighed, rolling onto his back and rubbing his hand over his face. Some part of him was still trapped in the odd dream-memory that he'd had, and he was having a difficult time coming out of it. But his body's needs had awakened him; he was conscious of being very hungry, and that had likely played a part in his migraine headache. Thankfully, the pain had subsided to a dull ache.

He stretched and grunted, "all right. Tell her I'll be down.

"You will? Really?" Teran asked.

"Yeah. I think I'll manage the stairs okay." Rheon said, even though he had some misgivings about that.

"Great! I'll tell mama you're gonna eat with us this time!" Teran said excitedly. It was the first time that Rheon had even considered trying to join them at dinner. Seeing how shaky he'd been with the walking boot and cane, Teran could understand his hesitation at attempting to walk downstairs.

"Um…If you need any help…you know, getting downstairs…" Teran offered, biting his lip. Rheon was still really skinny but a lot taller even than mama was. Almost as tall as his father had been. If he fell, Teran knew he couldn't catch him, but…if he needed someone to at least help with his balance… Teran could do that okay.

"I'll call for you. Don't worry kid, I'll be fine. I'll be down in a little bit." Rheon assured him.

"Alright then." Teran said, leaving Rheon to it.

* * *

Rheon gazed after the boy pensively, then sighed and sat up. He was still wearing the robe that Maiere had given him; his only garment at the moment. She had shown him however where she kept some men's clothing and had gotten a few items out for him. Some of it had been her brother's, the rest her husband's. His own clothing, she had explained, had been shredded beyond repair and so had been discarded.

Gritting his teeth, he slowly, painfully, got out of bed and made his way over to where Maiere had placed the clothing. Sorting through it, he found a plain black tee shirt, and a pair of undershorts, which he tossed over onto the bed behind him. He puzzled over what to put on his bottom half however, mindful of the bulky boot on his leg which would make putting on a pair of pants difficult to do without help….and a pair of scissors. He certainly wasn't going to go downstairs and eat dinner with his host family in nothing but a tee shirt and borrowed underwear.

He finally found a solution to that dilemma in the form of a pair of athletic shorts. They were very loose fitting in the leg, so they'd be able to get over the damned boot, but with a drawstring at the waist that could be tightened so that they wouldn't fall off. He tossed them back onto the bed with the rest of the clothes he'd picked out, and made his way back to it, fine tremors beginning to set in from even that small effort.

He sat back down on the bed with a heavy sigh, wondering if he'd even manage to make it downstairs when simply walking across the room was still so taxing on his weakened body. He'd managed to get up and get to the bathroom when needed, mainly through sheer grit and determination, but it wiped him out, every time. He glanced over at the pile of clothes next to him, and decided to do his best to ignore the slight dizziness that had set in, the weakness that had left him trembling, and the pain that had subsided to a dull ache but had never actually gone away.

Reaching for the shirt, he slowly got dressed. It _did_ feel good to have actual clothes on again, he had to admit. It made him feel less like an invalid at any rate.

Upon completing that process, he made his way out of the bedroom and to the stairway that led downstairs to the rest of the house. Once there, he paused for a moment, contemplating the steps and wondering if this might best be attempted another day, as he wasn't entirely sure he'd make it to the bottom in one piece.

It was a brief hesitation however; a short pause to gather strength before he proceeded.

Grasping the handrail tightly with one hand, and carefully setting the cane he'd been given on the step below where he stood with the other, he stepped downward on his injured leg first, gritting his teeth at the pain. He quickly followed with his uninjured leg and shifted his weight to it. He took a breath, then growled to himself in frustration as he stood, trembling and sweating after taking only one step, while several more remained for him to negotiate. Head swimming, strength fading, he carefully took another step. Then another. And another.

He continued down the staircase, grimly forging onward, step by excruciating step, until he reached the bottom.

Swaying, he held onto the handrail like it was his only lifeline. He leaned heavily upon the cane as well, wondering _how_ the hell he'd manage to walk to the damned dining room.

"Rheon? What are you doing? You look like you're about to collapse!" Maiere exclaimed, coming out of the dining room and seeing him there. She immediately came to his side and somehow managed to slip underneath his arm where he was gripping the handrail like grim death, putting her arm around his waist and bearing him up with surprising strength.

"Teran… thought I'd….do dinner….with you guys." Rheon said with difficulty as they both made their way across the landing and into the dining room proper.

Maiere grunted in response, then said, "He should know better. You'd just barely gotten back on your feet. You needed a few more days to get stronger before you attempted this."

"Tired…of laying in bed… boring." Rheon replied, sighing in relief as they finally made it to the dining room, and a chair, upon which he sank gratefully.

"Thanks." He said, taking a moment to catch his breath. Then he looked back over to the staircase and sighed again, adding, "You may have to simply make me up a pallet on the floor here. I don't think I have it in me to climb back up those damned stairs."

Maiere folded her arms across her chest and studied him with one eyebrow raised, saying, "You got down here. You can get back up."

"You may have to help me." Rheon said.

"All you have to do is ask," Maiere replied.

"Will you?"

"Of course. Now just relax here and I'll have dinner ready in a moment. You'll need all the energy you can get."

* * *

Later that evening, Rheon awakened suddenly. Sighing, he yawned and stretched, wincing at his various aches and pains. Muscles weakened from too little use complained now that they were being put back into service, while knitting bones were still making their half-healed state known. Still fuzzy-headed from sleep, Rheon lay still for a moment and tried to sort out just what it was that he needed.

Exhaustion that evening from his overexertion had dragged him deep into sleep the moment his head hit the pillow. Maiere had very kindly left a glass of water and a couple of pain pills on the table by his bed, and Rheon gratefully placed them into his mouth and drained the glass. Then he considered the state of his bladder, deciding that difficulties notwithstanding, a trip to the bathroom would definitely be worth the effort. He had a plastic urinal close to hand for "emergencies", but hadn't used it and unless things went seriously awry, wouldn't. The mere thought of it made him shudder.

So, grunting quietly and gritting his teeth, he struggled into his robe (it _was_ getting easier, he acknowledged in relief), wondering briefly as he did if Maiere had undressed him since he didn't remember doing so himself. Then he grabbed his cane, struggled stiffly to his feet, and made his way to the bathroom.

Once that need was addressed, he turned off the light and exited the room, nearly blundering into Maiere, who exclaimed quietly in surprise, "Oh! I thought you were Teran!"

"Sorry if I woke you," Rheon said softly, making his way slowly to his room.

"That's all right. I'm actually kind of surprised to see you up. You were wiped out after dinner." She commented, matching his slow, hitching pace.

"Well, I had to get up," He said, nodding back at the bathroom.

Maiere laughed softly, "True enough."

It was a short trip from the bathroom to Rheon's guest room, but his current handicap made it seem as though he had to walk kilometers, rather than mere meters, to return to his room. Upon reaching it, he paused, leaning against the doorframe. Maiere frowned; despite the fact that none of the lights were on, there was still a night-light in the hallway, a fact that Rheon was grateful for. So he was able to see her expression in the dim light.

"I never thanked you for saving me, did I?" Rheon asked her.

"You had far too many other things to think about Rheon. That was the least of my concerns regarding you." Maiere answered him.

"You had no reason to do that. And I've been a lot of work, both for you and the doctor. You know nothing about me, and owe me nothing and yet….here I am, alive and healing….because of you. So, thank you." Rheon said solemnly.

"You can thank me when we finally get you home to your wife." Maiere replied, turning away to return to her bedroom.

"Why did you?" His question drifted toward her from the darkness.

"What do you mean?" she asked him, not turning around.

"Why did you save me?" He clarified.

"Because…I couldn't let you die in front of my son. And because _you_ didn't want to die. You could have, so easily. All you would have had to do was to give up. But you didn't. You kept fighting. I just helped you fight, that's all." Maiere answered. She was about to continue on to her bedroom, but something made her stop and turn around.

Coming back up to Rheon, she reached up and took his face in her hands, gazing into his eyes, in the dimness. Seeing doubt, seeing confusion, and of course pain. Both physical and mental.

"It's not about whether or not you're worth saving. That's not for me to judge. All I could do is give you a chance. What you do with it from here is up to you." Maiere said softly, and then she added, "If you ask me though, I personally think that you are a good person. No one who loves his wife as deeply as you love yours can be entirely bad." Caressing his cheeks, she dropped her hands to his and gave them a reassuring squeeze.

"Go back to sleep Rheon. You need your rest."

"So do you," he replied.

She nodded, and said, "Good night then."

"Good night."

Rheon watched her go then turned to re-enter his bedroom, returning to his bed and sinking back into it with a relieved sigh.

Dinner had been enjoyable with Maiere and her son Teran. Teran in particular had been full of questions when Rheon had been hard-pressed to answer. He was remembering more, but it was still fragmentary and he knew that it would take a good deal of time to fit all the pieces together. He had one vital piece though: his wife's name. Rinoa. And all the memories attached to it that had flooded his mind.

More pieces would come. He knew now, from asking, that Maiere and her son lived in a tiny, remote community high in the mountains of Centra. After begging a map from her, he pinpointed where it was, and she showed him where he'd been found. How and why he'd come to be there however, he still could not recall. And the fact that he'd been found amid the remains of what appeared to be an incredibly destructive battle, raised more questions than answers.

Had he been responsible for all of that destruction? All those deaths? If so, how? And how could Maiere believe him a good person if that was the case?

He looked down at his wedding band, twirling it around his finger. In his mind's eye, he saw the golden thread, tangled around it, leading…somewhere. To Rinoa. He needed to get stronger so that he could finally go and find her.

Closing his eyes again, he let his mind calm and eventually drifted back into sleep…and into the dreams that were becoming more real than his waking life currently was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaaay! Another update! Squall continues his slow progress, healing both his mind and his body, and  
> he's gradually getting some of his memories back. Now it's just a matter of either the SeeDs finding him, Rinoa finding him, or Squall making his way home himself. Stay tuned and we'll see what develops.


	4. Shards Of Broken Glass

The sun warmed the bench and sparkled off the central fountain in the Quad. Rinoa closed her eyes and simply drifted, allowing herself a rare, quiet moment. She refused to think, to worry; instead she simply let her mind drift where it would. She focused on the splashing and burbling of the fountain, the twittering of the various varieties of birds that flitted amongst the decorative trees. A cooling breeze drifted through the concourse, ruffling her hair and brushing it away from her face, a brief touch of ethereal fingers that brought a pang as she remembered real, warm, solid fingers doing the same thing on numerous occasions.

The twins were in class; she had thought that she'd have to fight Squall on the subject of their schooling but he had agreed with her on that subject. It _did_ surprise her at first to learn that he did _not_ want them fast-tracked into SeeD unless they chose it themselves; until she remembered that _he_ hadn't been given the opportunity to choose. That both of their eldest children had chosen to follow in their father's footsteps despite his assurance that they didn't _have_ to… had surprised and disconcerted both Squall and Rinoa.

There were criticisms on all sides about it too. Those thinking that loving [parents](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=10596846&chapter=4/#) shouldn't have to shove their children into the rigid discipline of a military academy, that they were forcing their twins into the SeeD program. There were those who, on the other side of the coin, thought that the twins were receiving preferential treatment because of who their [parents](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=10596846&chapter=4/#) were, and were excelling because of _that_ , rather than their abilities. Nothing could be further from the truth.

They did what any parents did in support of their children's schooling. She and Squall both helped with their homework, and later, when astoundingly _both_ children chose the gunblade as their primary weapon, Squall helped them practice. On that _one_ point Rinoa had to admit, if only privately, that the kids _did_ have an unfair advantage in living with an acknowledged master of the weapon.

Misty however, had just started preschool and Rinoa was content to let her find her own way. Perhaps she would follow Rinoa's path and become a healer. One could hope, anyway.

As she sat there, drifting mentally, she suddenly felt a surge of energy and the entire feel of her surroundings changed. She knew, without opening her eyes, what it was.

"Griever," She said, opening her eyes to focus on the GF.

"Mistress." It acknowledged, padding forward to lay down at her feet, wings tightly closed against its back.

"You have been blocking me from contacting Squall, haven't you?" She asked.

"Yes," It answered, bowing its head and closing its eyes briefly.

"Why?"

"To protect his mind. His injuries left it fragmented, shattered. His body and his mind were both broken, and he needed to be isolated within himself so that he could heal. Outside contact, even through the bond, caused him too much confusion and distress, interfering with his healing process." Griever explained. "I had to isolate him even from the other Guardians for a time."

"And now?" Rinoa asked, hoping that the Guardian had good news for her.

Griever sat up, regaining its regal bearing, flipping its red-tipped tail in a very catlike manner as it answered, "he is recovering. I am no longer blocking the bond, but I would proceed carefully, for his state is still fragile."

"What happened? Can you tell me?" Rinoa asked.

"Yes," Griever nodded gravely. "He and his team fought a pitched battle; they were badly outnumbered and cornered. They prevailed, but at a high cost. Only Squall survived the battle, gravely injured. One of these injuries was to his head, which in turn damaged his mind. He recieved help, fortunately, and is healing. He's putting the shattered pieces of himself back together...and he's searching for you. I've shown him the bond and told him to follow it to you. Go to the place in your mind that you both recall and wait for him there. He will find you. He remembers you now."

"He didn't before?" Rinoa asked, ice starting to curl into a cold lump in her belly. Tempest squirmed and kicked her in protest, and she gasped, rubbing at her tummy and trying to calm herself lest her tension affect him further.

"Not completely. He remembered that he [loves](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=10596846&chapter=4/#) you, but could recall nothing else. Go carefully when you connect with him, you may help but you may also hinder...to him, this is a dream. As he grows stronger, more will come back to him...But this is _his_ fight. You cannot do it for him." Griever advised her.

"You're certain of this?" Rinoa asked him.

"Yes. I've been inside his mind and have seen the damage first hand. Go delicately." It repeated.

"I see. Thank you, Griever." Rinoa said.

It made as though to leave, indeed Rinoa felt the energy surge that heralded Griever's disappearance into its home [dimension](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=10596846&chapter=4/#), but it was halted when a little girl's voice squealed happily, "Gee-kitty!"

Misty, just now leaving her preschool class, was the reason that Rinoa was waiting in the quad. Garden held the preschool classes outdoors in a special section of the quad on days with good weather, allowing the children space to run and play when class structure became too much. It was an innovation put forward by Quistis after she became Headmaster, that so far had positive outcomes for all the children enrolled.

Griever lay back down, for all the world like the giant purple lion that it resembled, and purred loudly as a tiny, black-haired dynamo launched herself at it. While unusual in the extreme, everyone in Garden knew by now how unique Griever's connection to the Leonhart family was. It was not a traditional Guardian Force, nor was it a traditional junction that it shared with both Squall and Rinoa. Instead, Griever was an integral part of their bond, and could come and go at will, rather than awaiting a summons. It was part of why it was able to block Rinoa out while protecting Squall's mind. No other GF could do that.

Right now however, Griever was playing the part of a large, rather frightening-looking (to the uninformed) family pet, for the benefit of the little girl who was happily snuggling into its mane. Rinoa rather suspected that Griever had a soft spot for Misty, far more so than for the older children, though as time had passed, it had become more of a family avatar than a Guardian, and cared for _all_ of them. Griever had assured her that it would watch over the older children as they [continued](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=10596846&chapter=4/#) on their pathway to becoming SeeDs. Rinoa, and Squall, both took a great deal of comfort in that.

"You like scritches, Gee-kitty?" Misty was saying happily, both hands buried in the GF's thick mane and scratching industriously. Griever purred louder in response, rubbing its face gently against the child's, prompting her to giggle. Rinoa smiled at the image, and at the joy exuded by both the Guardian and her daughter. She let them play until Griever gave her a silent message that it had to leave, then she stepped in.

"Misty honey, Gee-kitty has to go home now, and so do we. Do you want a snack?" Rinoa asked her daughter.

Misty pouted slightly and asked, "Will Gee-kitty come back to play again soon?"

Griever nodded and Rinoa said, "Gee-kitty says yes. Come along sweetie." Rinoa held out her hand and Misty reluctantly left Griever, and took it.

She waved and said sadly, "Bye Gee-kitty." The Guardian gradually faded from sight, rather than simply disappearing like it normally did. Rinoa suspected that it did so for Misty's benefit so that she could see that it only existed in this world part of the time.

As they started walking home, Misty asked, "Can I have a peanut butter [sandwich](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=10596846&chapter=4/#) mummy?"

"Certainly you can. And milk too if you like." Rinoa answered.

"Okay," Misty skipped about a little, hand still gripping Rinoa's, asking, "Gee-kitty talks to daddy too, doesn't he?"

"Yes," Rinoa answered.

"Good. I told Gee-kitty to tell daddy that I missed him and hope he comes home soon." Misty said.

Rinoa felt her eyes stinging with tears and sent a silent message to the Guardian to be sure to relay the message...When it felt it safe for Squall to hear it.

"Me too, baby. Me too."

* * *

It was much later, after Misty and the twins had all gone to bed, that Rinoa, lying in bed herself, mulled over what Griever had told her. It had left her almost afraid to try and contact Squall through the bond, because of what she feared it would do to him if he wasn't ready for it. _Go to the place in your mind that you both know._.. it had told her. Along with that statement had come an image of the flower field next to the ruins of the Kramers' old orphanage. It was a place integral to their [relationship](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=10596846&chapter=4/#). There, Squall had pledged himself to her as her knight. Rinoa had found his body there, after they had defeated Ultimecia, and had called him back to her somehow. A year later, he proposed to her there. Now, hopefully, he would find Rinoa there, waiting for him once again.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, attempting to calm her mind. Then she visualized herself in that field, waiting for Squall. Just like he'd promised her, years before; _If you go there, I'll find you_. She hoped he would.

So, she set out to reconstruct a memory; golden sunlight of a particular rich, burnished hue only seen during a glorious sunset. Flowers of every type and color, red, white, pink, purple and blue, carpeting the field. Petals drifting on the wind. Birds singing, surf crashing in the background, and herself, standing in the flower field. She worried for a time over how she should appear; would he best remember her as the girl he'd asked to marry him or the woman who was now six months pregnant with his son?

She decided to stay in the present. Perhaps this too would help him to remember.

Her breathing slowed, steadied and she entered a nearly hypnotic state as she went to a place that wasn't _quite_ a dream, but wasn't reality either. It was something in between. Once there, her mind picked up the thread of the bond, and followed it to Squall. He was asleep, she discovered, and dreaming. And in his dreams, he was searching for her, just as Griever had told her.

 _Go delicately_ , it had warned her, and so she did, not speaking to Squall, simply insinuating herself very carefully into his sleeping mind. It was very similar to the method that Ellone had used to link to her brother's mind on more than one occasion, though in this case, Squall was already asleep. As carefully, _delicately_ , as she could, Rinoa slipped into his dreams.

He was dreaming of the flower field, and Rinoa almost wept at the aching loneliness and sense of loss that she could feel from him. She looked around, unable to see him, but sensing him all around her...not surprising as she was inside his mind. She could sense the bond, pulsing and alive, and through it could "see" his injuries. _Oh...my love...I am here..._ , She thought, feeling the pain of his broken bones, his injured head. She could also sense the fragmented state of his mind; she saw the blank spots and the brief flashes of memories that left him confused and frustrated. She wanted to hold him in her arms, soothe his hurts, _heal_ him...but she couldn't. Not while she was still pregnant, at any rate. Erring again on the side of caution as she had with her first pregnancy, Rinoa refrained from using any magic at all while she was carrying..with the exception of the bond, which was an entirely different thing.

 _Rinoa_...

His longing called to her, and she answered.

_I am here. Waiting for you._

The temptation to use the bond to draw him to her was acute, and Rinoa fought that impulse, instead slipping back into her own mind and back to her image of the flower field, a mirror image to what was in his mind. As hard as it was for her, she had to remain passive and wait for him.

A cool breeze from the nearby sea lifted her hair, sending it riffling back from her face in streamers of black silk, and she closed her eyes, hands clasped over her breast, fingers rubbing at her wedding band for comfort and reassurance. Squall's presence within their bond seemed to grow stronger, as though he was following its thread to her. Then...

 _"Rinoa?"_ He asked, hesitantly, as though unsure.

She felt him behind her, and wanted to turn and fling herself into his arms. Instead, she turned around slowly, and gave him a tremulous smile.

 _"Yes,"_ She confirmed, trying to hide her dismay at how he looked, knowing that it was reflective of his physical state. He was thin, his face lined with pain, his hair shorn close to his skull. A streak of white illuminated the healed scar at his temple.

_"You're...my wife?"_

_"Yes."_

He was silent a long moment, simply studying her, as though striving to fit all the pieces together. Slowly, he limped toward her, eyes fixed on hers.

Coming to a stop in front of her, he lifted his hand to touch her cheek, whispering, _"you're beautiful. The most beautiful, radiant angel that's ever haunted my dreams...I've wanted to see your face for so long..."_ He stopped as his eyes traveled downward to rest upon her protruding abdomen, glittering suspiciously as he took his hand away from her face and rested upon her belly. _"Mine?"_ Rinoa nodded confirmation, and he asked, _"Son or daughter?"_

Tears flooded Rinoa's eyes as she answered, _"son._ "

He took a deep breath, swallowing, and looked around at the field, the ruined orphanage, the seashore, saying wistfully, _"this is a dream. This isn't real. But, oh, Gods, I wish that it was."_ He returned his gaze to hers, and the naked longing in his eyes threatened to break her heart.

 _"So do I."_ Rinoa said. _"But...this..is a real place. And those memories of it that we both share, they actually happened in this place. THIS is a dream. But...I will wait for you here, just like we promised each other. We WILL find our way back to each other again."_

He nodded, falling silent again, and looked down and away for a moment. Then he raised his head and met her eyes again. Rinoa knew what he wanted, what he ached for, and could no more refuse him than she could ignore her own need. They were in each others arms with the speed of a thought, and they simply held each other while tears streamed down their cheeks.

 _"I wish this was real. I wish you were really in my arms..."_ He couldn't help thinking it, and Rinoa held him tighter to her heart.

_"I wish that too. But it is real enough for now. And I will always be with you."_

_"Always?"_

_"Yes. Do you feel it? The bond?"_

_"I...think so. I followed it... To you."_

_"It is real. Think of me, and you will feel it."_

They fell silent for a time, still holding each other.

 _"I miss you."_ He eventually whispered.

 _"I miss you too."_ She answered.

Suddenly, he began to fade and his panicked gaze met hers as he clutched at her.

 _"What...?"_ he gasped. Something was pulling him away, and he didn't want to go.

 _"You're waking up. Don't worry, I'll stay with you."_ Rinoa reassured him.

He receded from her, hand outstretched and fingers still reaching as they faded and slipped from her grasp. _"Wait! Not yet! I need to ask you first...what is my name..."_

Then he was gone. From the dream anyway. Rinoa could still feel him, still feel his regret as his mind awakened without the answer he had sought. No matter. She could give him the answer and he would hear it now. She whispered it, softly, into his mind.

_"Your name is Squall Leonhart..."_

* * *

Rinoa was happy. She woke that morning with an upwelling of joy that she couldn't even begin to contain, and it spilled over onto the children as she sang while making them their favorite breakfast, kissed them enthusiastically and prepared to send them off to school. The children caught her mood and even caught a sense of what had caused it. Saber of course, would be the one to ask her about it however, and so he did.

"How come you're so happy mom?" He asked, then exchanged a glance with Julia and added, "Did you hear from dad?"

Not seeing any reason to hide it from them, Rinoa answered readily, "Yes, I did, finally."

 _That_ caught the attention of all three children, and they drew together, watching her eagerly.

"Is he...is he coming home soon?" Julia asked softly.

"I hope so honey, I really do." Rinoa answered.

"Daddy's lost? Is that why he's been gone so long?" Misty asked. "Can you tell him how to find us, Mummy?"

"I already have, sweetie. But I think it would be better if we helped him a little." Rinoa said, not sure if she should attempt to explain why. Fortunately, the children accepted that answer at face value.

They ate in silence for a few moments; Saber's expression was thoughtful, and Rinoa wondered what the boy had on his mind. Very like his father, in that respect, she thought. In other respects however, their eldest child could best be described as an even blending of both parents. Both in personality _and_ in appearance. He had his father's beautiful turquoise eyes, (which girls were _already_ sighing over...) and intelligence, coupled with his mother's inky black hair and outgoing personality. Julia, his twin sister, was completely different; quiet and introverted like her father, she had a riotous mane of rich auburn hair and light brown eyes...and her share of admirers as well. The youngest, Misty Dawn, was Rinoa's "mini-me", both in appearance and in personality; black hair, brown eyes, energetic, outgoing and totally fearless.

Finally, Saber asked, "We're going to look for him, aren't we?"

Rinoa studied him for a moment, seeing more than a little bit of Squall in the boy's serious question. The same level, calculating expression. The same determination displayed in the set of his lips, the hint of steel in his eyes. Personality notwithstanding, he was _definitely_ his father's son, in numerous, subtle ways. She had intended to try and commandeer the Ragnarok, currently in Centra with the team tracking Squall, to bring her to the old orphanage and the flower field. Alone. She now realized that it would be a mistake not to include their children as well, though she worried over them missing class time.

At length, she answered, "Not so much look for him as...wait for him. And help him to find us." Seeing the puzzled expressions on the children's faces, Rinoa clarified, "your father and I, we made a promise to each other. I don't even remember now if it was a promise he made to _me_ or me to _him_ , and it doesn't really matter at this point. The promise was for us to meet at a certain place if we ever were separated for any reason. Originally it was when we were fighting Ultimecia and had no idea where we'd end up afterward. It's since become something...more personal to us. I reminded him of it, and so I want to be there so he can find us. _All_ of us."

The children exchanged a glance, and Rinoa could sense a silent discussion going on between the twins, while Misty simply radiated mounting excitement; her shields were a little unpredictable at the moment. She hadn't quite gotten the knack yet of keeping them up without having to pay attention to them all the time, and as she was just shy of five years old, she got distracted easily.

"When do we go?" Saber asked.

"As soon as I can arrange transport to Centra," Rinoa answered, adding with a smile, "It'll be like a camping trip, only we'll be meeting daddy there instead of bringing him with us."

"Like when we went to Fisherman's Horizon that one time?" Saber said, interested.

Rinoa smiled, remembering that particular family vacation from earlier that year. Squall had flown ahead to Esthar to tend to some business in Esthar Garden, and had told Rinoa to bring the kids and meet him in FH, where they'd then fly to the Outer Islands for two weeks of camping, surfing, and general get-away-from-it-all fun. The kids had enjoyed the adventure, and Squall and Rinoa...had enjoyed each other. And Tempest had resulted. At least _this_ time, Squall was more excited and happy and less fearful. Rinoa's completely uneventful pregnancy and birth with Misty had gone a long way toward calming those particular concerns.

"Yes. And we'll all help him to find us." Rinoa answered.

"Goody!" Misty said, bouncing happily in her seat. "I'll send happy thoughts to daddy!"

Rinoa's eyes watered at this, and she had to take a quick drink of her tea before she replied, "I'm sure daddy would love that." She didn't know if Squall remembered his children yet or not, but...a rush of love from his four-year-old daughter couldn't hurt him at all.

No. Not at all.

* * *

It was difficult to get the children off to school with any hope that they'd be able to focus, and Rinoa felt rather sorry about that. But she couldn't hide what she was planning from them either. It wouldn't be fair to them, for one thing. And for another...well, she wanted the kids to be there, not only for her benefit but for Squall's as well. She felt it essential that the entire family be there for him; she knew he would need them. It left her anxious to get started with packing and planning. Taking a deep breath, she sat back down at her dining room table and pondered what she should do first.

She had just about made up her mind to speak with Quistis regarding her plans to secure time off for the kids from school, when Reive knocked on her door. For the first time in weeks, she answered the door with a smile, startling the young man.

He blinked, taken off guard at her sunny expression, then cautiously said, "Good morning?"

"Yes! Very good!" Rinoa answered, smile widening. "Come in, come in! Would you like some coffee? Or tea perhaps?"

"Uh, coffee, thanks." Reive answered, following her into the dining room with a bemused expression on his face. He studied her covertly, as was his habit of late, and found nothing to worry him. Quite the contrary, and he wondered at that.

Sitting down at Rinoa's invitation, Reive took a sip of the coffee she had handed him and asked her, "I take it you've had some good news?"

"Yes! I was finally able to reach Squall. He's doing _much_ better. We couldn't...connect with each other until recently due to his injuries." Rinoa answered.

"Is he able to tell you where he is?" Reive asked.

Rinoa sighed,"You know, I was so happy that he could finally hear me that I didn't think to ask. And that was the first thing that I _should_ have asked from him."

"Can you ask him now?" Reive asked her.

Rinoa bit her lip, then shook her head, answering hesitantly, "He's...I can only connect with him while he's sleeping...it's easier for him right now to think its a dream."

Reive frowned, "Why?"

"He's had a head injury, and has forgotten...a lot. He's remembering some things but..." Rinoa explained with a shrug.

"So, he's forgotten about the bond then?" Reive asked.

"Yes. He says that his memories _are_ coming back; he remembered _me_ , at any rate. But slowly." Rinoa replied, then added. "That's why I need to have the Ragnarok recalled to take me and the kids to Centra."

Reive gave her a concerned look, asking, "do you think that's wise? I mean..." His gaze tracked down to her abdomen, then back to meet her eyes.

"It'll be fine Reive." Rinoa reassured him firmly, adding, "He's remembered our promise, so he'll meet us near the old orphanage."

"If he's still injured, it would be easier if we could bring him there rather than waiting for him to make his way to you on his own, don't you think?" Reive asked her. Then he continued, "We _are_ getting closer to finding him though. That's what I was coming to tell you. Nida got a call from a contact in DCPD. A doctor in a little village in Centra has asked for help in identifying an unknown man that was found nearly dead and now remembers virtually nothing. He provided photos and...it's him. If we can find this doctor and that little village, we'll find Squall."

Rinoa's heart leaped in her chest, and she asked breathlessly, "Where? Did he say where the village was?"

Reive frowned, "No, he didn't. But the doctor's contact information was provided. I'll see if Nida's had a chance to call him."

Rinoa nodded slightly, then took a deep breath and got to her feet, asking, "Are you finished with your coffee Reive?" At his nod, she said, "Good. Let's go. I need to talk to both Nida and Quistis."

"Both?" He asked.

"Yes, both. Quistis is Headmaster now, so I've got to let her know the kids will not be in class for awhile and Nida, well, you know why. He needs to recall the Ragnarok." Rinoa said, heading for the door.

"All right. We need to talk to Nida in any case, to get the details of that call he got." Reive said, following her. "I'm assuming you'll want to leave as soon as possible?"

"Yes." Rinoa said firmly. She opened the door, determination evident in her posture.

Glancing back, she said, "Come on Reive."

"All right." Reive said, following her.

He was pretty certain, based on what he'd learned of her personality over the last few weeks, that chances were pretty high that they'd be flying out to Centra by that evening, Taking into account the amount of time it would take to fly it back to Garden from wherever it currently was, the loading and preparation process as Rinoa and her children boarded the airship, and then the travel time back to Centra.

* * *

Reive found it difficult to keep pace with an energized Rinoa; a fact that heartened him somewhat. The last few weeks had been difficult for everyone concerned, but it weighed most heavily upon her. He understood her need to keep a strong, calming mien for the sake of her children, and further, for those who knew and cared for both her and Squall. It shouldn't have surprised him at all that the man should be missed; he'd been Balamb Garden's Commander for over ten years now, a virtually unheard of fact. And despite the fact that as Commander he was largely confined to Balamb, there _were_ rare occasions where he...and most of the time, Rinoa...were sent out on assignment. Anyone who thought that they'd lost any whit of their skill or expertise was very soon disabused of that notion after seeing the two of them in action. Particularly as they tended to get the most difficult of assignments. For _them_ to be involved usually meant that all other options had failed.

Losing Squall, even temporarily, had dealt Garden a devastating blow; the SeeDs and the cadets all shared a collective anxiety that each announcement that went out over the P.A. system would be the one they'd least want to hear. Sitting at lunch in the cafeteria, he'd seen everyone present visibly stiffen and brace themselves every time Nida made an announcement, regardless of how innocuous it ended up being.

In spite of his admittedly hopeless crush on Rinoa (which he rather suspected that she was aware of and too kindly to mention or encourage), he could only feel both happy and relieved for her sake that she'd heard from Squall via their mental link.

So he followed her quick strides to the lift, which she took to the office floor. Upon exiting, she paused in the main hallway, momentarily undecided. Her gaze strayed to the door to Squall's office, and lingered there. It was closed and locked; Xu and Quistis could gain entrance there to retrieve anything that they needed, but neither they nor Nida, who was currently acting commander, would actually use the office. She took a deep breath and swallowed, apparently making a decision, and headed toward the lift that led to the flying bridge, Nida's likeliest location.

He looked up from one of the data screens that now resided on the bridge as the sound of the lift alerted him to their arrival. Over the years, Balamb Garden had, of necessity, been upgraded and modified as it had aged and needs had changed, and these new data screens were an addition that made Nida's job as Chief Engineer much easier and less labor intensive than it had been. The flying bridge now looked more like the nerve center it actually was than the bare-bones means of directing the base that it had once been.

"Rinoa," he greeted her warmly, crossing the bridge to the lift to take both of her hands and squeeze them gently. "I was just going to call you. I take it Reive her gave you his morning's report?"

Rinoa smiled up at him, and laughed at his start of surprise and shock at her obvious joy. She'd always liked Nida, and had been genuinely happy for he and Quistis when they'd finally married. Now in his mid-thirties, he was still handsome and athletic, though time was starting to add silver to his black hair. While Squall was also beginning to sport some silver, it wasn't much, and it was really the only evidence that time had any effect on _him_ at all. Aside from that minor telltale, he still appeared to be in his twenties, rather than his early thirties and Rinoa...looked virtually the same as she had fifteen years ago. No one had yet noticed, and Rinoa hoped that by the time anyone did, it wouldn't matter. She was the sorceress of Time. That was the power that had come to her through Ultimecia and Adel, and as a sorceress, she was immortal. Time, and age, could not touch her, and as her knight, it would touch Squall only lightly, keeping him strong and slowing the evidence of age, so that he could protect her. It was a part of their bond; she had learned this from Edea, who had been a sorceress for so long that even she could not (or would not) tell anyone exactly how old she was. Until she'd released the bulk of her power to Rinoa, she had still looked to be in her mid to late twenties. She'd only started aging after she'd given her power over to Rinoa. She now appeared to be in her mid-forties, though she was still beautiful.

Right now however, her only thought was how happy she was to report that she had in fact heard from Squall, and to request that Nida recall the Ragnarok to take her and the kids to Centra.

"I've heard the report Nida," She answered. "And I have one for you as well. I've finally been able to connect with Squall. He's...doing better, but he was pretty seriously injured."

Nida's eyebrows raised, and he asked, "Did he tell you where he was?" He watched her keenly, light hazel eyes suddenly putting her in mind of a raptor preparing to stoop.

Rinoa swallowed and dropped her eyes for a moment before answering, "No. I...I was just so happy to...to... _connect_ with him, even if it was just through the bond...I didn't think to ask."

Nida's expression softened and he said gently, "I understand. We _are_ getting close to finding him though. I just got a report from DCPD that a doctor had told them about a John Doe he'd been caring for and was searching for his family. I got the man's contact information and tried to call him but didn't get an answer. I'll try again tomorrow..."

"I need you to recall the Ragnarok." Rinoa said urgently, interrupting him.

Nida frowned, "Why?"

"I want to go to Centra. I want to be there when he's found. Me and our kids." She answered firmly.

"Rinoa..."

"Please, Nida. I _need_ to be there."

"Rinoa, it's dangerous. Far more dangerous than you realize." He warned her, his suddenly stern expression not hiding his concern.

"I'll be fine." Rinoa countered calmly. Nida's response was a wordless glance at her swelling belly, then back at her, eyebrows raised.

"Really?" he asked her flatly.

"Yes." Rinoa insisted. "I HAVE to be there for him Nida. I can help, I know I can. And..." her voice faltered and she bit her lip, fighting a sudden wash of tears that blurred her vision. Finally, she finished in a thin whisper "If I go there, we'll find each other..."

"Go where, Rinoa?" Nida asked her softly.

"You know where Nida." she replied.

Nida studied her in silence, frowning slightly as he puzzled out her reply, then he said slowly, "Yes. I believe I do," Without another word, he turned away and approached the comms center, punching in a code upon reaching it, and picking up a headset and microphone unit.

Placing it on his head, he listened intently for a few moments, before finally saying, "Ragnarok, this is acting Commander Nida. You are hereby recalled back to Balamb immediately."

"Copy that Nida, I'll recall the trackers and head out as soon as we get everyone together." came the radio's response. "Is there an emergency sir?"

"Negative. Team rotation and R & R for your guys. That's all." Nida answered briskly.

"Thanks. We could use it. Any news?"

"Yes. There will be a full briefing upon your arrival." Nida answered, signing off with a short, "See you guys soon. Nida out."

Removing the headset, he placed it back on the desk next to the communications array, and turned back to Rinoa.

"They'll be here in about two hours. You'd better start packing." he told her.

Rinoa flung her arms around him and hugged him tightly, whispering, "Thank you, thank you, thank you... " then she pulled back and smiled at him through damp eyes, adding. "I'm already packed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took a long time to write, mainly because I had to completely switch out my word processing program from Word to yWriter5...Word quit working on me, and I didn't much like Microsoft's hard-sell tactic of essentially FORCING me to buy the full version of Office in order to reactivate it. SO I figuratively told Microsoft to Suck It and got another program to use. So I've had to upload all of my in progress stories to this new program, then start working on them while getting used to the new environment and how it worked. So far, I really love it. One drawback though is that I can't upload docs directly to ffnet, instead I have to copy and paste, which is terribly cumbersome and time consuming. NOT impossible however, as this chapter is perfect evidence of. So, here's my latest chapter of this story, with more to come from my other in progress works. Back in the saddle again...


	5. A Journey of A Thousand Leagues

"Rheon! Hey, Rheon, wake up!" a small hand, shoving at his shoulder, forcibly dragged Rheon from sleep, and dreams, and the arms of his wife. He grumbled inarticulately, then groaned. Cracking one eye open, he focused with difficulty on the small face that was, as usual, disconcertingly close to his.

"Mama made pancakes for breakfast!" the boy said urgently. Apparently, this was an event of some import.

It took Rheon a moment to reorder his sleep-fogged mind, but he nodded to the boy and mumbled gruffly, "OK. I'll be down in a minute." Satisfied, the boy nodded and scampered out, shutting the bedroom door behind him.

Left to himself, Rheon lay back on his bed, tempted almost beyond endurance to simply close his eyes and return to the dream he was unceremoniously yanked from by Teran's insistence. His waking mind sifted through the images; so vivid and sharp-edged that they seemed almost more real than what he saw with his waking eyes. For a brief, sweet moment, he'd held Rinoa in his arms, seen her beautiful, tear-washed eyes, her night-dark hair...it was a moment far too brief for his liking. Seeing her had brought with it more memories of their life together as well, though there was _one_ memory that he'd been unable to recover without her help. It was odd, but even as he was waking, he heard her whispering it into his mind.. he'd been so afraid he'd wake without learning it, and she still somehow managed to give that to him.

_Your name is Squall Leonhart._

He sat up as her voice whispered again in his mind, and then froze as everything..shifted.

He remembered. _He remembered._

Moving like a sleepwalker as his mind raced far ahead of his still healing body, he hobbled to the dresser, grabbed some clothes and began to dress. More pieces to the puzzle inside his mind were fitting together now, almost faster than he could follow them. The image that was forming was still fragmentary, still cracked and crazed like a broken mirror, but gradually coming into focus.

He was...A SeeD. He'd known that from the beginning; the gunblade that Teran had insisted be brought along when they'd taken him here, that had given it away. But... _now_ he recalled his rank. Commander. As that piece settled into place, he felt another shift, as though he'd just put on a uniform and had altered his bearing to reflect that. Another piece of his identity recovered, another facet of his [personality](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=10596846&chapter=5/#) revealed. There were still blank spots, gaps. Things that he didn't understand about some of those memories that he was slowly, painfully recovering. Questions that he could not answer because those answers were still locked away, deep in his mind. Some of them, he acknowledged, might very well be beyond any hope of recovery due to the damage his body had suffered.

But he knew now, that Rinoa would help him. She had done so in the past, and he had no doubt that she could do so again...once their baby was born. He didn't know how he knew that, but something had whispered in his mind that she was unable to do it until then.

_Think of me, and I will be with you._

Closing his eyes, he did exactly that, doing by reflex what his cognitive mind lagged behind in understanding. And there she was. Exactly as she'd said. He _felt_ her there, her presence a warm comfort like a loving embrace. And with that love, came the recollection that this was integral to their [relationship](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=10596846&chapter=5/#), and something that no one else had. A pang of longing hit him like a punch to the gut. _I miss you. So much..._

A rumble from his midsection reminded him that he still had to eat. Reaching for the cane that he'd leaned against the bed while he'd dressed, his gaze strayed to the far corner of the room, resting upon the gunblade that rested against the wall, still filthy and crusted with gore. He frowned, feeling a pang strike him at the state of his weapon. He probably wasn't even strong enough to lift it yet, but he suddenly wanted to [clean it](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=10596846&chapter=5/#), very badly. He turned his back resolutely on the pitiful sight and made his [slow](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=10596846&chapter=5/#), hitching way toward the dining room, negotiating the stairway with care. As he did, he wondered if Maiere would have some gun oil and cleaning solvent that he could borrow to clean it with.

As he descended the stairs, he acknowledged that it was getting easier for him. Already he was stronger than he was just the day before. And the next day, he'd be stronger still. Progress was frustratingly slow, but it was progress.

Then he remembered his dream/vision of Rinoa standing in the flower field next to the ruins, and grew impatient with his disability. She was _there_. Waiting for him. And he was too weak still to go to her.

Not without help.

* * *

Maiere was just setting the plateful of pancakes on the dining room table when Rheon finally made his way downstairs. Teran was already sitting down, waiting impatiently for their house-guest to arrive so that he could dig in. She forestalled him with a large glassful of orange juice. Teran might be an extraordinarily sensitive and compassionate child, but he _was_ still a child, and pancakes were his favorite breakfast, which he liked best hot and fresh from the griddle.

But Rheon had improved markedly over the last few days, and while he was still hampered by his broken leg, did manage to move a little better than he had even just the day before.

Maiere studied him as he made his way to the table, frowning. He seemed...different, somehow. She couldn't put her finger on _exactly_ how, but... _something_ had changed. He still moved slowly, still leaned heavily on his cane for support, so she couldn't rightly say that he was _graceful_. He was still a bit shaky in fact, though steadier than he'd been before . But he [appeared](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=10596846&chapter=5/#) straighter in his bearing; the set of his shoulders, the tilt of his head, the alignment of his spine...made it very easy to visualize him in the uniform of a SeeD right in that moment. Then his eyes met hers as he seated himself at the table, and she knew.

He'd always regarded her with a disconcerting keenness; _that_ had not changed. But now it seemed as though something had solidified within him. The vaguely lost look in his eyes was gone, replaced by razor sharpness. It reminded her of the steady gaze of an eagle, or of a lion. Watchful. Measuring. Calculating. It _almost_ frightened her, but there was no malice in his gaze. Just a cool reserve that really had always been there, but was more noticeable now that his eyes were no longer clouded by confusion.

That cool regard warmed however when Teran asked him, "Do you like pancakes Rheon?"

Smiling slightly, Rheon answered, "Yes. But my name isn't Rheon."

Suddenly Maiere's heart started to pound, and it was an effort for her to keep her voice steady as she said, "I know. We just gave you that name until you could remember yours. Have you?"

Rheon nodded silently, and Teran's eyes opened wide and he exclaimed, "You remember your name? What is it?"

Suddenly looking uncomfortable and a bit wary, he shifted his attention from Teran to Maiere and back again, finally answering, "It just...came to me this morning. My name is ...Squall Leonhart."

"That's a weird name," Teran commented with a grimace. "Can I keep calling you Rheon instead? It sounds cooler."

Taken aback by this, Squall gave the boy a startled look and then suddenly burst out laughing, "Gods, you remind me of my son.." then he paused, expression turning wistful as he added, "he said the exact same thing to me once." He fell silent and glanced away, eyes glittering suspiciously.

Maiere was startled too. Rheon... _Squall_... hadn't had much reason to laugh, so until this moment, she'd never seen him do much more than smile slightly. It lifted her heart immediately for her to see that, and she had to sigh a bit, if only inwardly, at how it transformed his already handsome face. Not for the first time, she found herself wishing wistfully that he wasn't already married. She set that thought firmly aside however as being selfish and unworthy of further attention. Instead, she decided to keep her and Teran's focus on what was most immediately to hand. Namely, breakfast.

"Well," She said lightly, smiling at them both, "let's eat first, and then we can talk about...whatever you want." She didn't want to press him too much, knowing that sometimes it would trigger a migraine. Hopefully, this breakthrough he'd had was a sign that whatever the source of those migraines was, had begun to heal.

Squall nodded in relief and gave her a grateful look when she poured him a cup of coffee. Then he helped himself to some pancakes and a couple of strips of bacon.

Teran however, was alive with curiosity, and suddenly his pancake breakfast wasn't nearly as interesting as finding out more about Rheon...Squall...whatever. It was difficult for him to focus on his breakfast. He wanted it all to be done with so he could ask the million and one questions that crowded his mind. Questions like how old his son was, and how many other kids he had, what he did with that big gunblade of his, and if he'd use it to fight the dragon he had seen. He managed however to eat all of his pancakes and _not_ bolt them down, choke on them _or_ get sick. Then he did his best to wait patiently while his mother and...Squall...finished their breakfast.

"Would you like some more coffee R-Squall?" Maiere asked him.

Squall smiled slightly as he caught her slip, and nodded, "Yes, please."

She filled his cup, and he thanked her and took a sip, disconcertingly keen ice-blue eyes flicking from her to Teran and back again. She was no less curious than her son, who was doing his best to behave but was obviously being eaten alive with it. Her dilemma stemmed from which questions to ask first, and what approach to take in the asking. Would interrogating him too intensively hinder his progress, and [slow](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=10596846&chapter=5/#) his healing?

Squall however took the initiative, saying, "I assume you have questions. In fact, I _know_ you do. Ask. I'll answer what I can." He pushed his plate aside and leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. Waiting.

"How old are you?" Maiere asked him, curiosity on that particular point taking the forefront of the myriad questions that she had for him.

Squall blinked, taken off guard, then frowned slightly, asking a question of his own, "It's June...right?"

"That's right, June. The twenty-eighth." Maiere answered.

Squall knew the year, though it had taken a glance at the morning paper a few days ago to remind him of it. Yet another thing that had vanished into the now thankfully shrinking black hole inside his mind. His frown deepened as he attempted to retrieve the information he needed to answer Maiere's question.

Speaking slowly, he answered, "I was...seventeen when I defeated Ultimecia...fifteen years ago now, I think. So...I guess that makes me... Thirty-two."

"You look barely twenty. Twenty-five at most..." Maiere said, shaking her head in amazement.

Squall shrugged slightly, unable to explain that at the moment. He had a vague idea of why but knew it wouldn't make sense so didn't feel it worth attempting.

"How many kids do you have?" Teran chimed in before his mother could come up with another question and usurp his turn.

For a moment, Squall had a stab of fear hit his stomach when he came up blank on that subject. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. _Don't force it, it'll come._ And it did.

Opening his eyes, he answered, "I have three. The two oldest are fraternal twins."

"How old are they?" Maiere asked him.

"The twins are twelve, and the youngest is four." He answered.

"I'm eight," Teran said, then asked again, "what's the gunblade thing do?"

"It's a weapon. I fight with it." Squall answered, adding, "the bullets in it give it more power but it's used more like a sword than a gun."

Watching the two of them interact for those few minutes gave Maiere time to think. The names he'd mentioned; his own and the name _Ultimecia_...sounded familiar. She remembered the whole Ultimecia affair, but only vaguely. That, and the bloody instability that had followed, was what had prompted her parents to take her and her brother out of Deling City and flee to the remote wilds of Centra. Other like-minded refugees had joined them and had created this little community out of virtually nothing.

Tired of the war, the bloodshed and the chaos that had torn Galbadia, Esthar and Dollet in those years, they had all worked together to create this peaceful little oasis far removed from the strife that had driven them there. It hadn't been easy; it still wasn't. The mountains were a little more hospitable than the bulk of the arid continent, but it was still hard to grow anything there. It had taken _years_ , and a couple of techno-whiz refugees from Esthar and FH, before they'd managed to construct a solar array to provide electricity for the community. Likewise with the rest of the infrastructure; Maiere remembered the outhouse they'd had to use for a good long while before they'd managed to get plumbing and sanitation figured out. Telephone service had come last of all. By that point, the rest of the world had settled down and appeared to be relatively peaceful and those who were of a mind to could return to Deling City or Dollet or wherever they'd come from. Most however, had opted to stay, loving the peace and quiet afforded by their remote little village. That was why it was so disturbing to her to have had a battle...a _slaughter_... Occurring virtually on her doorstep.

A slaughter at the hands of this man.

Maiere had been thirteen when her family had fled Deling City. She'd never really known what had been going on, but it was confusing and terrifying, even for a teenaged girl. But she did remember hearing people talking, more and more, about sorceresses, SeeDs, Edea, and Ultimecia...and finally, lionheart. _Leonhart_.

Maiere gasped as her mind finally made the connection and her startled gaze met his puzzled one, and she whispered, "You're _him_!"

"I'm...what?" Squall asked, confused.

"You're the one who...made it all...stop. All the crazy stuff that happened after President Deling was killed. It was you?" She asked, seeking confirmation.

"Well, not just me...there were others that fought alongside me." Squall clarified.

"But...you were the leader. I kept hearing people talking about 'lion heart', and thought they were just referring to how courageous the SeeD was who'd fought and defeated this.. Ultimecia. I never realized it was your _name_..." her voice trailed off and she studied him anew. It had been years before the full story had been pieced together, and news took a long time to reach their remote outpost. But eventually, newspaper articles and some photographs made their way there. Not many, and few indeed of this mysterious "lion heart SeeD". She suspected that had been deliberate on his part.

"Well, to be perfectly accurate, it IS the name of my gunblade." Squall replied with a shrug.

"I only remember seeing one photo of you... You don't look anything like that now." Maiere said, then wanted to bite her tongue. Of course he didn't look like he did when he was seventeen!

"Yeah, well," Squall said with a rueful expression as he pointedly ran his hand over what was still essentially stubble where his hair had once been. "It _was_ awhile ago... And people change."

"Yes, they do." She nodded. Then, biting her lip, she asked, "do you remember...anything...about what happened to you? How you came to be here?"

Squall swallowed, licking at his suddenly dry lips, and tried. And was thwarted by the Black Hole again. He already knew what would happen if he threw himself into that abyss in the hopes of drawing out what he sought. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, still trying for it though, until Maiere's voice stopped him.

"It's okay Squall. Don't worry about it. Either you'll remember or not."

"It's important that I do, I think. I need to know what happened as much as you do." He said, frowning.

"You were fighting a dragon." Teran supplied helpfully. "I saw it."

Squall directed his attention to the boy, asking, "You... _saw_ it?"

"Yeah. It was dark but I could see it in the lightning, and when it spit the fireballs out..." Teran answered.

"Teran," Maiere said with a quelling look. "It was a dream, honey. There was no dragon."

"Yes there was! There really was..." Teran insisted.

"Ter.." Maiere began, but Squall interrupted them both, saying, "Yes, there was. I remember that much at least." Maiere stared at him in shock. _It was real?_

Teran all but bounced in his seat from excitement, crowing "I knew it! I knew it! You _are_ a knight! When you go to kill the dragon, can I come too and help?" Squall tilted his head to one side and gave Teran a small half-smile.

"No, you can't." he answered. Teran's face fell.

"Why not?" the boy asked, expecting Squall to tell him something like it was too dangerous or he was too little.

"Because I wasn't fighting him." Squall answered. He wondered how much he should tell them about the dragon, Bahamut. At least he remembered the Guardian's name now. Explaining him however, to someone who may or may not even know what a Guardian is...was something else entirely.

"What were you doing then?" Maiere asked, intrigued in spite of herself.

"Yeah, why was the dragon breathing fire and stuff?"Teran asked, confused. Why _wouldn't_ he be fighting the dragon? Wasn't that what knights _did_?

Glancing from Teran to his mother, Squall answered carefully, "Because I told it to."

* * *

Squall's answer had the effect of stunning both Maiere and her son into silence. He didn't _explain_ what that statement meant, though the implication was pretty clear: one, that the dragon was in fact real and two, that he could control it in some fashion.

Maiere realized then that she knew virtually nothing about SeeDs. They'd been so isolated and insular here that she'd paid little attention to what had been going on in the "outside" world as a whole. Her entire focus had been on living her life as well as she could on her own with just Teran, being both mother and father to him.

The only thing that she knew for sure about SeeDs was that they were mercenaries, reputed to be fearsome to face in battle. Having seen the damage that Squall had undoubtedly had a hand in, she could now understand why, if they could all do _that_. Mouth dry, she took a sip of her coffee before she could ask her next question.

"How?"

Squall considered his answer carefully, before saying, "Bahamut is what we call a Guardian Force. SeeDs can call upon these Guardians at need to aid them in battle."

"You mean, _all_ SeeDs can call dragons?" Teran asked excitedly.

"Actually, no. Bahamut is the only dragon. And he's mine." Squall answered. He didn't feel it necessary to go into any great detail concerning junctions and how they could be dropped or transferred at need. The fact was, Bahamut was his...along with Griever and Shiva...and a long list of others. He might lend them to other SeeDs to use if they would provide an edge in a specific situation, but for the most part, they were _his_.

"Whoa!" Teran whispered in awe, eyes wide. Then he asked, "Can I see him?"

Squall shook his head, answering seriously, "I only call him when I need him."

Teran's face fell in disappointment, but Maiere thought she understood Squall's response, and was rather glad about it. The dragon was a weapon, used only in dire, dangerous circumstances, and not to be called upon for frivolous reasons. Not even to impress a seven-year-old boy.

"Are you done with your breakfast?" Maiere asked Teran, deciding to change the subject. When he nodded, she said, "Okay, go put your dishes in the sink and go get dressed."

Teran did as instructed, and Maiere gathered the remaining dishes and utensils, smiling at the perturbed expression on Squall's face, saying, "You can help when you have both hands free."

He glanced at the cane he'd leaned against the table and frowned, then nodded with a rueful twist to his lips. He remained at the table for a moment, listening to the sounds of running water and clacking dishes as Maiere set to work washing them. Finally, he got to his feet and hitched his way over to the entrance way leading to the kitchen and leaned against it.

Maiere glanced at him curiously, and he asked her. "you wouldn't happen to have gun oil and cleaning solvent that I could use, would you?"

"I think so, why?" She answered.

"I need to clean my gunblade. Do you have some extra newspapers or something? I don't want to damage your table." He said.

"Yeah, I'll get it in a minute..."

"Just tell me where. I'm not _completely_ crippled." he said, his voice taking on a frustrated edge.

Maiere turned away for a moment to hide a sympathetic smile, knowing he wouldn't appreciate it, and then answered, "In the box next to the the cleaning supplies in the pantry. I use them to clean the windows with."

She listened as he opened the pantry door and rummaged around in the aforementioned box, emerging moments later with one hand gripping a stack of newspapers while the other held onto the cane and he made his way to the table. The papers rustled as he arranged them in a thick mat on the table and Maiere heard him leave the room and pause at the foot of the stairs, sighing audibly before starting the laborious process of ascending them.

She finished the dishes quickly; there really wasn't that much to wash after all. She drained the sink and dried her hands, then left the kitchen and headed toward the hall closet where she'd stashed some of her husband's things. Among them were his firearms and the cleaning supplies he'd used with them. It wasn't hard to find them; she'd taken care with the organization of the closet so the weapons were easily reached if needed, but out of Teran's reach by dint of a lock on the door to which only she had the key.

Maiere returned to the dining room with the requested items, glancing up at the staircase in concern as she passed it, wondering how he'd manage the stairs with that huge, _heavy_ weapon of his. He'd need help with it; there was no way he was strong enough yet to carry the thing and manage the stairs again. Placing the cleaning solvent, gun oil, ram rod and some cleaning cloths on the table, she decided to head upstairs and give him a hand...whether he wanted it or not.

* * *

He was an idiot.

Squall sat on the edge of his bed and stared at the corner of the room where Lion Heart currently rested and tried to puzzle out just _how_ exactly he was going to follow through with his plan to find Rinoa when he couldn't even figure out how to get his Goddamned gunblade downstairs. He couldn't even _lift_ the thing; when he tried he'd only managed to get it a few centimeters off the ground, his entire body trembling from the strain.

Not so long ago, he'd been able to wield it as easily as one might wield a butter-knife.

_The spirit may be willing_ , he thought, _but the flesh is too damn weak._ He knew time would remedy that, but he was used to Cure spells or Healing potions that fixed in moments what normally took much longer to heal. Accelerated healing _did_ have a side effect of requiring a few days' rest for the body to recover the resources used, but it was better than being bedridden and/or disabled for weeks or even months on end.

Unfortunately, he had none of those remedies to hand. Apparently, his cure spells and potions and whatnot had been used up in the battle that he _still_ could not remember. As catastrophic as the aftermath had apparently been, at least according to what Maiere and Teran had told him, Squall had to wonder if he'd _ever_ remember it.

And, just as importantly, if he even _wanted_ to remember it.

Meanwhile, here he was, still sitting on his bed staring at his gunblade, feeling like the biggest fool on the planet. He _had_ to clean it, it was filthy. And he had to have it clean and in proper working order for when he went to the flower field where he knew Rinoa was waiting. He _needed_ to get there, he just hadn't managed to find a way to do that yet.

He'd figure it out. He'd crawl on his hands and knees the whole way if he had to.

A soft knock directed his attention to the open doorway, where Maiere stood with a sympathetic smile.

"Thought you could use a hand." She said, entering at his slight nod.

Lips quirked ruefully, he said, "You thought right."

Maiere crossed the room to where the gunblade rested against the wall in the far corner, picking it up and grunting at its heft, "Goodness! I can barely lift this! And you were expecting to be able to carry it one-handed just days after getting back on your feet?"

Squall shrugged as they made their way, slowly (much to his frustration) out of his bedroom and down the hall to the stairs again. He glanced over at Maiere, who carried the weapon awkwardly in both hands.

He stood aside a moment and let her precede him down the stairs, saying, "bring both hands closer together on the handle. And make sure the edge of the blade points away from you."

"It's not any easier to carry that way, " she observed as she did as directed.

"Maybe not, but it _is_ safer." He answered. At her puzzled glance, he elaborated, "The edge might be slightly dulled, but I kept it honed to razor sharpness. It _will_ cut you, if you're not careful." Then he frowned and muttered, "wish I still had my honing stone..."

"I have one. My husband had hunting knives that he used..." Maiere said, glancing back at him.

Squall shook his head, "the blade is adamantine. It requires a special type of honing stone, embedded with crushed diamond, to sharpen it. Too hard otherwise."

"Oh." Maiere said. They reached the dining room far sooner than she thought they would. Squall appeared to be moving a little more easily , and it was obvious, to Maiere at least, that he was benefiting from the activity. Not that she needed to encourage him toward that. He appeared driven to regain his strength, willingly throwing himself into the rehabilitation exercises he'd been given. It was pretty obvious that he was unused to prolonged convalescence, which made her wonder, in light of the other scars his body bore.

"Well, here you go," She said, laying the gunblade carefully upon the thick mat of newspapers he'd set up on the table. "Let me know if you need anything else."

"Thank you," He said. "I will."

She nodded in acknowledgment and left him to it.

* * *

Squall studied the gunblade critically. Structurally, it was sound. Whatever had been done to it had not damaged it. It was simply very, very dirty. Crusted with dried blood, soot, dirt...He had his work cut out for him, getting it cleaned up. He'd have to take it apart and clean it piece by piece.

So he set to work, and shortly had all of Lion Heart's various components disassembled and spread out on the table in an orderly fashion. Dampening a cleaning cloth with solvent, he started with the trigger mechanism, wiping it until he was satisfied it was clean, and continuing on to the cylinder, firing pin, and the barrel. The other internal parts of the gunblade received similar treatment.

Teran came in when Squall was about halfway through his self-appointed task and sat down quietly at the end of the table, watching in fascination. Squall of course was aware of his presence, and glanced at the boy briefly before returning his attention to the gunblade. Teran didn't seem inclined to _touch_ anything, simply watch, so Squall let him be. He smiled to himself at that thought. Saber would have had his hands on _everything_ , talking a mile a minute and asking question after question. Squall had been hard-put to answer his precocious son's inquiries while simultaneously trying to keep track of the various bits and pieces of Lion Heart that Saber would pick up, examine and lay down, thereby turning Squall's carefully laid out parts map into a random jumble of barely identifiable junk. Fortunately, by that point Squall had disassembled, cleaned and reassembled his gunblade so often, he could do it blindfolded and half dead. Literally.

"What's the blade made out of?" The boy finally asked curiously.

"Adamantine. Virtually unbreakable and lighter than steel." Squall answered, picking it up and examining it critically. He needed to wash off the encrusted blood, before he could really get a look at what kind of shape the edge was in.

"Is that why it's blue?" Teran asked him.

"Yes." Squall frowned, laying the blade down and considering how he might get it cleaned. Soap and water of course, but getting it to the table...

"Can I help?" Teran asked him.

"Actually, yes you can." Squall answered, relieved at the boy's offer. "I need some warm, soapy water and a couple of washcloths. Could you get that for me?"

"Sure!" Teran answered, getting up and scampering into the kitchen. He returned moments later, carrying a large bowl filled with soapy water with exaggerated care. Setting this on the table, he left again and returned with some cloths.

"Thank you," Squall said as Teran sat down again.

"Now what?" The boy asked, watching him eagerly.

Squall narrowed his eyes, considering the arrayed pieces of his gunblade. There was no question of the boy even touching the blade, much less attempting to clean it. Squall had come back with nicks and cuts on more than one occasion doing that, and _he'd_ done it for years and was careful. Then his gaze fell upon the body of the gunblade, with its blackwood handle and silver accents. That would do.

"Wash the grip and body. You might have to scrub it a bit, it looks pretty crusty." Squall finally answered.

"Okay." Teran said, happily taking charge of the item and starting to wipe it down with a wet cloth. Squall did the same with the blade.

They worked in silence for a few moments, then Teran frowned at the part he'd been working on and showed it to Squall, asking, "Does this look okay...Rheon? I mean.. Squall?"

Squall nodded, taking it from Teran and studying it closely, "Yeah, you've done a really good job Teran. Thank you."

Folding his arms and resting them on the table, Teran then rested his chin on top of his folded arms, continuing to watch Squall.

"Can I still call you Rheon? I like that name better." He asked.

"I would prefer my real name now." Squall answered.

Teran snorted and asked, "Why?"

"My mother gave it to me." Squall answered simply.

"Why'd she give you such weird name?" Teran asked.

"I don't know." Squall answered, examining all the pieces that he'd cleaned and oiled closely before starting to put them all together again.

"What's it mean anyway? Mom said that 'Rheon' means lion." Teran said.

"A squall is a sudden, violent rainstorm." Squall answered, peering into the barrel before fitting it into position.

"Was it raining when you were born?" Teran asked, curious.

"I don't know."

"Why? Didn't your mother tell you anything about it? I bet she would if you asked. Mine did." Teran wondered.

"No. She died when I was born. So I never had the chance to ask her." Squall replied.

"Oh." Teran fell silent, thinking about that. His mother was his entire world. He couldn't even imagine what it would be like without her. Not with Dad gone too.

"What about your dad? Did he raise you?" Teran asked.

"No. He didn't know about me until I was seventeen and already a SeeD." Squall answered. He understood the child's curiosity. He got those sorts of questions a lot, from a _lot_ of curious people. It _did_ get tiring, answering them time after time; one of the reasons he hated giving interviews. Any journalist worth their pay would have done their research and already known the answers to the standard questions. But Teran hadn't even been born yet, and Squall was old news long before the boy had arrived on the scene.

"So..." Teran began, slowly puzzling it out. "Who took care of you? Your grandma and grandpa?"

"No." Squall shook his head. He peered closely at the now clean blade, wishing he could hone it but finding it in surprisingly good shape, all things considered.

"Aunts and Uncles?"

"No. My mother had no family, and my father...was out of reach. I was sent to an orphanage with my adopted sister before he ever knew I'd been born." Squall finally explained.

"An orphanage is a place kids go when they don't have anyone to take care of them, right?" Teran asked him.

"Yes." Squall answered.

"My mom doesn't have any family either. Not anymore. So, if she dies I guess I'll have to go to an orphanage too. What was it like? Was it a good place?" Teran asked him. Thinking of losing his mother and being alone made him sad. He wondered if Squall had been sad too, but then he'd said he'd had a sister. Maybe she'd been nice to him and he hadn't been _completely_ alone.

Squall studied the boy for a moment, frowning slightly, then decided to give him an honest answer. "It was...small. And remote. It's a ruin now, but it had been built on the cape south of here, by a lighthouse. It was better than some I'd heard of; there were only a few of us kids there, and Matron, the woman who ran it and took care of us, was nice. We got to play in the sand, let the waves wash our feet...feel the wind from off the sea in our hair. It _was_...nice. For awhile."

"What happened?" Teran asked, interested.

"It's a long story." Squall said, not entirely willing to rehash it again for a new audience. "Suffice it to say that things changed. Some of us kids got adopted, some went to military school. Balamb Garden. To become SeeDs. My sister...got sent away...and I didn't see her again until ten years later."

"Did you miss her?" Teran asked, curious. He didn't have any siblings, and had been told by his mother that she needed daddy for her to give him a little brother or sister, and he was gone. He'd have preferred a brother, but apparently Squall hadn't gotten to choose, even though he'd said his sister was adopted.

"Yes. Very much so." Catching Teran's grimace, Squall gave him a slight, half-smile and added, "despite her being a girl."

"I guess girls aren't so bad," Teran said with a shrug. "As long as they don't get all silly and screechy and stuff."

Squall had to laugh at that, remembering Julia and little Misty and how excited and silly they'd get over whatever new thing was all the rage for girls at the time...which changed _constantly_. Almost by the hour.

"I have daughters you know. Two of them." Squall reminded the boy. Then he added with a sidelong glance and half-smile, "and yeah, they do get silly and screechy, as you put it. On occasion...Though Julia's a little more on the quiet side."

Teran sighed at this. Squall had an expression on his face that suddenly made Teran miss his father desperately, so closely did it resemble one that he'd seen on his own father's face more than once. He didn't know what to call it other than a "daddy face" but every time he'd seen it, it made him feel warm inside.

"What happened to your father, Teran?" Squall asked him gently, noticing he'd suddenly gone quiet and a little sad.

"I don't know. He went out hunting with Uncle Brend and they never came back." Teran answered.

"How long ago?" Squall asked him.

" A couple years ago I guess. I don't really remember." Teran said with a shrug. "They found Uncle Brend's body, but not dad's. But mom thinks he's dead too."

"I see." Squall _did_ see, and thought he might just have figured out some of what had motivated the boy to want to help him.

Not knowing what to say to the boy about the subject, Squall focused his attention back to his gunblade, making sure everything had come together as it was supposed to. Squall had grown up without his father but in the end they had found each other through a twist of fate and had managed...if not a traditional father-son relationship, at least one based upon mutual respect and yes, even love. But he still felt the lost years, and knew that Laguna regretted them too.

Suddenly, just like that, Squall knew exactly what to say to Teran regarding his missing, possibly dead father: "Focus on your best memories of your father, Teran. Even though you didn't have him for a very long time, he was there for you when you needed him to be. From the way you speak of him, it's obvious that you loved him, and just from the way you have behaved since I've gotten here, I can tell he was a good man who tried to raise you right. I think he would be proud of you...I'm sitting here alive thanks largely to you."

Unexpectedly, the boy came around the table and launched himself at Squall, wrapping his arms around his waist and squeezing tight. Squall couldn't hold back a surprised grunt of pain as Teran's arm bumped against his still-tender ribs. A keen ache of a different origin stabbed Squall's heart as he thought of his own son, Saber, missing him deeply. Closing his stinging eyes, he returned Teran's embrace.

"I miss my daddy," The boy whispered.

"I know, and I'm sorry he's gone. I miss my son and daughters too." Squall replied softly. Then he whispered, "I want to go home..."

* * *

Maiere leaned against the wall, out of sight of the dining room, eyes blurring with tears. She didn't intend to eavesdrop, but had returned just in time to discover Squall and Teran working on the gunblade, and talking. She didn't want to interrupt, but at the same time, the discussion the two of them were engaged in, had caught her, and held her fast. So she kept out of sight and silent, and listened.

And fought tears as she heard the years of pain and loneliness underneath the SeeD's quiet words. Heard his longing as he spoke of his children; and ached for _them_ as well, who had to be missing their father as much as he obviously missed them. And lastly, she ached for Teran, who so desperately missed his own father, and had no hope of ever seeing him again in this life.

But it was their final, whispered words that finally set the tears free to course down her cheeks.

_I miss my daddy._

_I want to go home..._

Her heart broke for both of them. She could do nothing for Teran but be there for him; their shared loss of both her husband and brother had caused them to cling to each other for comfort. The only thing she could do for Squall was to help him return home to his family. Somehow.

Silence from the other room piqued her curiosity and she wiped her eyes and took a deep breath to compose herself, then entered the room. They were both turned away, studying the now cleaned and polished gunblade as it lay upon its bed of newspapers. The cleaning supplies had been neatly capped and set aside, the used cloths likewise laid aside either for laundering or disposal.

Squall glanced up the moment she did, and his lack of surprise at seeing her made her think that he perhaps had been aware of her presence for quite awhile. Either that or he'd simply heard her approach; she hadn't made any effort to be quiet, though she wasn't overly noisy either. From what she'd heard of SeeDs, it was probably best that she _didn't_ surprise him; even weakened as he was, she didn't feel it wise to do so.

"Sorry for intruding," she said with a slight smile. "I went to see where Teran had got to and..." she gave a small shrug, "I heard you talking." Stepping closer, she glanced over at the table, finally getting a good look at the gunblade, Lion Heart. Her breath left her in a gasp.

"It's beautiful," she whispered, captivated by the weapon. The dirt, grime and dried blood had been washed away, the silver polished and the graceful blade glowing like a shard of heaven affixed to a hilt. Staring into it gave her the odd feeling of lying on her back and staring up at the sky, with its limitless gradients of blue that shaded into eternity.

A small hand slipped into hers and Teran looked up at her and said, "It looks like a piece of the sky, doesn't it?"

She nodded, admiring the gunblade's beautiful design, saying "Yes, it does."

Squall ran another soft cloth over the blade, almost caressing it, saying, "I like it much better clean."

"I can see why." Maiere said. Recalling the difficulties he'd had in bringing the weapon down for cleaning, she offered, "would you like me to help you get it back to your room?"

Squall nodded his head once, unable to completely hide the ironic twist of his lips as he did, saying, "thank you, I would appreciate that."

He began clearing up the mess left behind, with Teran willingly ferrying items to be discarded to the trash bin. Maiere also lent a hand, and everything was as it had been before in short order. She once again took charge of Lion Heart when Squall decided to head upstairs.

Teran accompanied them, asking more questions about the gunblade...such as, "what kind of bullets does it shoot?"

"None, right now. I'm out of bullets. But it shoots all kinds of different bullets." Glancing over at Maiere, Squall then asked, "You didn't happen to keep the belts or the holster for it, did you?"

"Yes. They were in rough shape but still intact. Like the gunblade, they need a good bit of cleaning though." She answered.

"Have you got any leather soap?" Squall asked her.

"I think so. I'll have to go look for it. I know I bought some awhile back for my shoes." Maiere answered.

"Thank you. Truly. You've been very gracious, putting up with me." Squall said as they entered his room again and Maiere returned Lion Heart to its previous spot in the far corner.

"It's no trouble..." Maiere began, pausing at Squall's quiet snort.

"I'm pretty sure I've been all kinds of trouble. But thank you." He said, then hesitated, looking uncomfortable. "I need one more, _huge_ favor from you."

"What is it?" Maiere asked curiously.

Squall glanced from her to Teran and back again, then asked, "Do you have a vehicle? A car maybe? Or a truck?"

"A truck." Maiere answered. "Why?"

Suddenly, Squall felt incredibly weak and he sat down suddenly on the bed. The possibility that he might actually be able to see Rinoa soon nearly overwhelmed him. Then he took a deep breath and calmed himself. Maiere still had to agree to take him to the peninsula...on the other side of the continent. And it would not be an easy journey, not by any means, and especially in his still weak condition. But he had to go. He'd endure what he had to in order to get to the flower field where he knew Rinoa would be waiting.

"Squall?" Maiere asked, sounding concerned. "Are you okay?"

He nodded to reassure her, then he answered, slowly, "I need you to take me to the peninsula. Where the lighthouse is. There are ruins there, and next to them a field of flowers. Rinoa will be waiting for me there."

"The ruins...from your old orphanage?" Teran asked him. Squall nodded.

Frowning, Maiere asked him, "how do you know she'll be there?"

"We made a promise to each other to meet there if we should ever become separated. I _know_ she'll be there." Squall answered confidently.

Maiere studied him, concerned. He was stronger, steadier on his feet and improving daily _but_...as far as she knew, there were no real roads that led to where he wanted to go. Which meant that they might very well be driving overland...over some extremely rough terrain. She did her best to keep her truck maintained and it was a sturdy vehicle, but the sad fact was if something happened, she would not be able to count on Squall to help. As much as he might want to, he simply didn't have the strength yet, and Maiere was not willing to put that expectation upon him. Then she saw the steely determination in his eyes and realized that he might very well try to _walk_ there himself, despite barely being mobile. And tough as he might have been in the past, she knew he wasn't ready for that. Not yet. He would not survive.

She didn't know if she was equal to the challenge. Not with Teran along too. What if something happened? What if the truck broke down or they encountered a monster that they couldn't handle? Squall wouldn't be able to fight, and while she and Teran both could shoot and had rifles to hand, there were some creatures that conventional firearms weren't terribly effective against.

Not for the first time, she wished that Squall had been able to recall his phone number. Unfortunately, he hadn't, and there wasn't anything left behind that would have reminded him. She was surprised that his belts had survived intact when so much of his other personal effects apart from his gunblade, had been destroyed.

"Mom? Can we? Please?" Teran asked, gazing up at her earnestly. It sounded like a grand adventure and he was all for it. He rarely got to do such things as this anymore, now that dad was gone.

Maiere studied her son for a moment, then turned her attention to Squall, who was simply watching her, his expression carefully neutral.

"Okay. When did you want to go?"


	6. Among the Ruins

"I hope you weren't planning on using the old orphanage as shelter," Nida said, walking back from the ruined front door and brushing his hands off on his uniform trousers. "It's too unstable. It's crumbling as we speak. I thought Edea or Cid were going to rebuild it."

"There was no point, and everyone, including Squall, voted to leave it as is." Rinoa replied, falling into step beside him as they made their way toward the camp Nida had insisted be set up for her, complete with an entire squad of SeeDs and a medical team.

"I'm not leaving you and your kids there with just one SeeD for protection. Centra's no safer than it was ten years ago Rinoa, and in fact if the reports I've gotten are accurate, it's a good bit more dangerous." Nida had told her firmly.

While not entirely happy with having so many people about to witness her reunion with Squall, Rinoa had to admit that they were needed. Saber and Julia were just cadets, and while topping their class, were in no way prepared for the action that they might encounter there. And Reive, while a good SeeD, was only one person. Also, Rinoa's delicate condition notwithstanding, Squall would undoubtedly need medical attention. How urgently remained to be seen. So she could easily follow Nida's reasoning for setting that up, and she agreed with it. A more private reunion with her husband could and _would_ be accomplished later.

They walked along the overgrown colonnade, and Rinoa paused upon reaching a particular point. One of the columns had toppled over and lay just outside the pathway, parallel to it, forming a barrier dividing it from the flower field. She looked around, finding a lot that had changed in the years since. But the patterns of the stones, the overgrowth of ivy, and that _one_ rock...the one she'd been scuffing at with the toe of her boot while Squall had been petting Angelo and awkwardly trying to joke with her...brought back her memory of that day. The day he'd silently pledged to be her knight, on the eve of the battle that would change... _everything_.

The flowers were the same. Rinoa knew now, that they were a mixture of cultivated and wildflowers. Someone would have had to come in the spring to spread seeds, since some of the flowers that carpeted the field were not native to Centra. No one knew who, though Rinoa privately thought that it might be Cid. He and Edea still came here sometimes. The ruins were too far gone to be made habitable again, so Cid and Edea had built a small summer cottage on the other side of the cape. From what Squall had told her, Edea had always loved the flowers.

"Rinoa?" Nida asked, concerned.

"I'm fine Nida." She said, her gaze searching for and finding one more spot in the field itself, close to the bordering trees. Memories of a blanket, an ignored picnic lunch and Squall looking so handsome in a suit and tie that she'd wanted to melt right at his feet...and a question that had forever bound their lives together as one. Sighing heavily, she turned away from the memories, though the perfume of the flowers still lingered, both in her mind and on the breeze that cooled the summer afternoon.

Nida nodded, taking her reassurance at face value, though he knew that this place held intimate memories for both Squall and Rinoa, and that she was likely in the grip of those memories. "I called the **[doctor](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=10596846&chapter=6/#)** of that little village. Finally managed to get ahold of him." He told her.

Rinoa's breath caught in her throat and she had to concentrate on breathing steadily before she could ask, "And?"

"It _was_ Squall. But...he's gone." Nida answered. The minute the words left his mouth, he wanted to kick himself.

"What?" Rinoa gasped, blood draining from her face and suddenly feeling faint. Nida leaped forward and grabbed her forearms, steadying her.

"No! No, Rinoa! I'm sorry! Gods, it's not like it sounds!" Nida said urgently, shaking her slightly to try and keep her focused. "He's not _dead_ , he's just left. The **[doctor](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=10596846&chapter=6/#)** told me that he'd been staying with a woman and her young son, and they'd been taking care of him. Well, they all left, just this morning. The only thing that the woman would tell him was that they were bound for the cape. _Here_." He pulled her into a hug and repeated reassuringly, "He's on his way _here_ Rinoa. Hyne's grace, I'm sorry I scared you like that. I didn't mean to." He let her go when he felt that she was once again steady on her feet. He took a handkerchief out of his breast pocket and handed it to her.

As she wiped at the tears flowing freely from her eyes and blew her nose, Nida said apologetically, "Don't tell Quistis I did that. She'll kill me."

Rinoa gave a watery laugh, "You'd deserve it."

Nida gave her a rueful, lopsided grin and nodded, "I know. But I'd rather escape her wrath just this once."

Rinoa snorted, "Sorry, I'm not buying it. I know she adores you."

"She does," Nida acknowledged. "And I adore her. But those whips of hers aren't just for show."

Rinoa laughed and Nida grinned wickedly and winked, prompting her to laugh harder.

When things calmed down, Nida asked her, "Better?"

"Yes." Rinoa said, sighing.

"Good." Nida said. Taking a deep breath, he added, "I'm going to fly the Ragnarok on a low search pattern to see if I can't locate him and this woman he's with, and bring them back. Just relax here Rinoa, and with any luck I'll have him back to you by tonight."

Rinoa's heart leaped and she said breathlessly, "oh, I hope so!"

"So do I," Nida replied softly, then turned away, headed toward the Ragnarok.

"Fly safely Nida. And bring him home." Rinoa said.

Nida paused and turned back, saying, "I'll do my best." Then he walked away.

* * *

After Nida had left, Rinoa [continued](https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_preview.php?storyid=10596846&chapter=6/#) walking toward the camp where Saber and Julia were taking turns minding Misty and helping Reive and the other SeeDs with setting things up. They'd situated the camp in a stand of trees on the far side of the flower field. It was sheltered, defensible, and included a good view to the field itself. As she walked, Rinoa reassured herself that Squall was really okay by lightly touching the bond. He'd been quiescent, not initiating contact, probably still thinking that it was part of his dreams and not the reality that Rinoa knew it to be. She reflected that it was likely Squall's silence, along with Nida's unfortunate choice of words, which had shocked her so. He was still _there_ , just not as present as he'd been in the past.

That would change once he came home, and she for one could not wait to engage in the more pleasant aspects of strengthening that bond.

A shrieking giggle and happy barking alerted her that her mini- whirlwind, Misty, was approaching with their dog playfully bounding about her. It was a shepherd mix just like Angelo had been, and in fact was a full sister to him, though several years removed. The last pup from Angelo's parents last litter, and barring gender, nearly identical to him. Squall had surprised Rinoa with the puppy one birthday, to both her and the twins' delight. Despite the fact that the dog was now nearly six years old, she still acted like a puppy, and the kids adored her. Squall had named her, perhaps a little unimaginatively, Angelo II. Rinoa preferred to think that he'd named her that in remembrance of her predecessor, who'd met his end under tragic but heroic circumstances.

The kids of course had quickly shortened the name to Jello. The dog would respond to nothing else.

"Mummeee! Mummy look at Jello! Lookee! She's being silly again!" Misty called out, directing Rinoa's attention to Jello's antics.

She was indeed being silly, which for a high energy breed like hers, wasn't terribly unusual. She was racing around the flower field in ever-widening loops, occasionally stopping with an almost audible screech in front of Misty to bow low on her forelegs and bark demandingly until the child threw one of the dog's toys that she'd dropped. The dog of course would race after it, snatch it up, and go on another two or three lap loop around the field. Six years on, and Jello never had really gotten the entire concept of 'fetch'. Rinoa simply stopped and watched, and laughed. Jello wasn't Angelo. She had a personality all her own, but Rinoa had missed having a dog. Squall had too, and he had in fact taken Angelo's loss far harder than she'd thought he would. Still, it had surprised her when he'd turned up with a puppy that had looked so much like her erstwhile pet that her heart had ached.

She wondered if Squall remembered that they had a dog.

Eventually, Jello tired herself out and plopped down at Misty's feet, panting happily. Rinoa took a quick glance toward camp and saw that the setting-up part was largely done and preparations were being made for their evening meal.

Turning back to Misty, Rinoa said, "Did you help Julia and Saber?"

"Yes." She answered.

"Good. They're making dinner now. We should head back." Rinoa said, taking the little girl's hand and calling Jello to heel with a word.

"When is daddy going to get here?" Misty asked her curiously.

"I don't know yet sweetie. We know he's on his way but don't know how long it'll take him." Rinoa answered her.

"Oh." Misty replied. She skipped a bit, then asked, "what are we having for dinner mummy?"

Rinoa snorted slightly and answered, "probably hot dogs."

"I like hot dogs," Misty said happily.

Rinoa wasn't such a huge fan of them herself, at least not in her current condition. Pregnancy always had an odd effect on her appetite, and currently, tubular processed meat by-products were highly nausea inducing. The mere idea made her stomach roil. She quickly thought of a cool, crisp, green salad and it subsided. Fortunately, her touchy tummy had been taken into account, so she didn't have to worry overmuch about going hungry or suddenly throwing up her dinner.

Jello trotted alongside them, panting happily, as they strolled into camp. Saber and Julia were busy with Reive and a couple of SeeDs, putting the finishing touches on camp set up, while a pair of SeeDs who'd apparently drawn KP duty, were starting to serve up dinner.

The dog trotted up to the twins, stubby tail wagging, and they both paused to give her a scratch and a pat, before Saber looked up and smiled at them, saying, "We're just about done mum. You and dad's tent's over there," he gestured toward a large tent situated at the edge of camp, but just a few meters from the smaller tents the kids were using. "This one is for Julia and Misty. Reive and I have already gotten ours done."

"Well, they're serving dinner, so you might as well stop now so we can all eat," Rinoa said.

"All right," Saber said, and he, Julia and Reive quickly finished up and put away the tools and equipment they'd been using.

As they headed toward the mess tent, Reive asked Rinoa quietly, "are you okay? Nida looked kind of unsettled when he left, and said he was flying a search grid before heading back to Garden."

Rinoa frowned slightly and rubbed at her face, wondering if she'd missed a few tear-streaks, and answered, "Yes, I'm fine. Nida was telling me that he'd finally managed to speak with the doctor that had been treating Squall, but Squall wasn't there anymore. He'd just left. Apparently, he's on his way here."

"I see. So Nida's gone searching for him while we wait here?" Reive asked her. Rinoa nodded.

"Well that makes sense." Reive said with some relief. Haring off to Centra to camp out next to a ruin on a whim, even if the whim in question was that of the sorceress-wife of his commander, _didn't_ make a great deal of sense to him at the time. Taking into account her currently gravid and thus both physically and emotionally fragile state, and the dangers endemic to the Centran continent, made him privately wonder at Nida's acquiescence to her assertion that they should come here. Squall had engaged Reive as his personal assistant with _one_ specifically stated order that overrode everything else: _protect his family_ , whatever the cost. Taking Squall's wife and children to a remote and highly dangerous continent seemed to run completely counter to that objective.

Despite Reive's admittedly hopeless crush on Rinoa, he was first and foremost a SeeD, and it was his honor and privilege to serve his commander to the best of his ability, personal feelings notwithstanding. In this case however, what had appeared to be a wrong-headed move turned out to be the right one. _Yet one more reason_ , he reflected ruefully, _to never second-guess your commanding officers_. Generally speaking, if a SeeD survived long enough to reach a senior rank, it was a good idea to pay attention to his or her orders.

Sunlight slanted in golden beams through the surrounding trees, filtered by the dust that still hung in the air, a byproduct of the traffic to and fro throughout the camp as people went about their assigned tasks. The warm scent of summer-baked earth and resinous pine warred with the cool, briny tang that was carried on the breeze from the nearby sea. Despite its dangers, _this_ part of Centra at least was lovely, and Reive could readily understand why Squall and Rinoa would occasionally make it a vacation spot. He wondered though, if it was as dangerous as he'd been led to believe, why Squall would take his family here on vacation.

"Didn't you mention that you used to camp out here when you and Squall went on vacation? Just you guys with no backup?" Reive asked her, curiously.

"Yes. But things weren't as...stirred up... as they are now. It was safer." Rinoa answered.

"Made so by your husband, no doubt." Reive commented.

Rinoa shrugged, "perhaps."

"Is that what he was doing here? Looking into why things had gotten so dangerously out of hand?" Reive asked her.

"I don't know Reive. Despite our bond, I don't know _everything_ that's in my husband's mind. He didn't wish for me to know, so I respected that and let it be." Rinoa explained.

Reive studied her with new respect. _That_ aspect of their relationship, when it had been revealed to him, had disturbed him greatly. Mainly for what it meant from a security standpoint. There were certain things that the commander of SeeD knew that should not be common knowledge. The fact that his wife, a sorceress, had a mental link with him which could, in theory, put those secrets in jeopardy, had nearly pushed him into the "the sorceress must die" camp. To learn firsthand how _disciplined_ they were about it, eased his mind a bit regarding that concern. He pondered over that while they all queued up with the rest of camp for the evening meal.

His mind was so preoccupied with his thoughts in fact, that he actually jumped when a plate was placed on the table opposite Rinoa, followed by a huge shotgun thunking emphatically onto the table next to it, and a voice drawling, "What's a nice li'l lady like you doin' in a dump like this?"

The response was electric.

"Uncle Irvy!" Misty squealed, jumping up and running around the table to attach herself to his leg, hugging it for all she was worth. The tall sniper bent down immediately, detached her from his leg and caught her up in a big hug.

"How you doin' peanut? Behavin' for your momma?" he asked her after giving her a big kiss on the forehead and recieving one on the cheek from her in turn.

"Yep, I am!" She declared, turning to glare at Saber, who'd snorted softly.

Irvine turned his attention to the older siblings with an eyebrow raised, asking, "And what about you two? Giving your parents grey hair yet?" Giving Misty a final squeeze, he set her down and gently urged her back to Rinoa. He chuckled at Saber's frowning head shake.

Then he held both arms out, grinned at Saber and Julia, and invited, "C'mon you two. You can't tell me you're too big to give ol' Uncle Irvy a hug?" They immediately got up from where they were sitting and converged upon Irvine, hugging him from both sides. He hugged them both back, hard. "I've missed you little monsters."

"We've missed you too." Rinoa said, finally standing and approaching him after the twins had returned to their seats.

She walked into his arms and he hugged her gently, sighing and whispering, "we never found him..."

Pulling back, she studied his face closely, noting how haggard and grief-stricken it was, and placed her hand gently against his beard-roughened cheek, saying, "Have you been out searching this whole time? I thought Nida had rotated groups..."

"He did, but I wouldn't come in. I couldn't. I had to find him, bring him home..." He said in a low voice. He avoided her eyes as he added, "I'm sorry..."

Rinoa stopped him, "Irvine, I didn't realize you hadn't been in yet. I've had contact with him, finally. He's on his way here, we're just waiting for him."

That stopped him and he took a deep breath, confirming, "He's alive then?"

"Yes."

"Oh, thank Hyne!" He whispered, stumbling over to the bench and sitting down heavily. His head bowed, causing his cowboy hat to hide his expression, while his shoulders shook silently. Eyes stinging, Rinoa sat down next to him and leaned against his shoulder offering her support. He and Selphie had both been her anchor while she dealt with the last few days and weeks of uncertainty. It was no effort at all for her to offer her support now in return. She threaded her fingers through his and squeezed. He squeezed back, hard, while fighting to regain his composure.

"Damn fool." He finally muttered. "What took him so long?" He turned away, wiping at his eyes, and Rinoa gave his hand another squeeze. Then she got up, patted his shoulder gently and returned to her seat opposite him.

"Well, I'll tell you, but you'd better eat first." Rinoa said. Glancing over at the kids, she added, "You too. You can talk to Uncle Irvy when we've finished eating."

Saber, Julia, and Misty all nodded and concentrated on their dinners. It didn't take much urging, it had been a long day and everyone had worked hard, including Rinoa. This despite a concerted effort made by Reive and Nida both to convince her to ease up on her exertions. But she could NOT sit idly by and watch everyone work, and wandering into the med-tent had made things worse. She'd wanted to take over there, make sure they had absolutely everything that Squall might possibly need.

She wanted him home with her, whole and healthy again. The image she'd seen of him in her mind had frightened her; she'd never before seen him so utterly broken and weakened. It made her worry that he'd never in fact be the same again, particularly in light of the injuries to his brain that she'd sensed. Had she not been pregnant, she might have tried healing him through their mindlink. She'd done it before. But...there was the baby to consider, and while they had no proof that her use of magic would _harm_ him, they also had no proof that it would not. She'd eschewed magic use in both of her previous pregnancies, and the kids were perfectly fine. Her magical taint had not appeared to have touched them, and with any luck, it never would.

She transferred her attention from her plate to Irvine. He'd gone out with the first search group, leaving Selphie to keep Rinoa company and to mind their kids...and sometimes Rinoa's as well. Misty, at any rate, as the twins now felt they were too old to be "babysat". The weeks he'd been out had been hard on him, and not just from a physical standpoint, though that certainly was clearly displayed. He looked as though he'd aged a decade during that time; eyes red-rimmed, face etched by stress and grief. Age had been kind to him otherwise, carving lines, planes and angles out of the boyish softness his face once had. He was the same age as Squall, early 30's, but was starting to show more frost around his rather tattered and worn edges.

They all ate in silence for a few minutes, then Irvine asked her, "so.. how is he?"

Rinoa sighed, glancing at the kids, then answered carefully, "He was hurt pretty badly, but he's mending."

Irvine nodded, catching Rinoa's concern for the children, and didn't press her for details. He'd get them from her when the smaller ears were out of hearing range. Yeah, Saber and Julia were cadets now, but he could understand why Rinoa didn't want them to know how badly their father had been hurt. Not yet.

"Any idea of when he'll get here?" he asked.

"No. And that's why Nida went on that sweep. See if he could get Squall here quicker, and spare him the journey." Rinoa answered.

"I hope he finds him then." Irvine said.

"Me too." Rinoa replied.

* * *

The kids returned to their duties after dinner, completing the process of setting up camp as the last of the sunset faded. Misty was under Reive's charge for the time being, and Rinoa was grateful that he took no issue with being pressed into babysitting duties along with the other things he did for them as Squall's assistant.

Rinoa stood at the edge of the flower field, within hailing distance if Reive should need her (or she him) but outside hearing range of her children. And she waited, watching the sunset die in a brilliant blaze of scarlet that blended into lavender, violet and deepest indigo.

"You gonna tell me the rest of it?" Irvine's quiet voice sounded from behind her.

"Yes." She answered, not turning around.

She heard him approaching, could sense him drawing even with her, then turning to watch her expectantly.

"He had a head injury. A serious one. He was in a coma for a month. Maybe more. He only woke up just a short time ago and remembered...nothing. That's why I haven't been able to connect with him, not until just a few days ago. He still thinks that me speaking with him...that way... Was a dream, so he doesn't realize yet that it's real and that he can actually speak with me through our bond." Rinoa said.

"He tell you all this?" Irvine asked.

"No I...I scanned him. Through the bond. He has four broken ribs. A broken tibia. Mild anemia from blood loss, and...a brain lesion from his head injury. He may never regain all of his memories, but he at least knows who he is now." Rinoa answered, her cool, clinical detachment as she listed Squall's injuries in no way reflecting her actual feelings. Behind that clinical facade she was sobbing her eyes out again, worried that she might _not_ be able to heal all of his damage, apprehensive over exactly how much of him she'd get back.

"He didn't before?" Irvine asked.

Rinoa shook her head.

Irvine sighed, then asked, "So it's not real likely he'll remember anything about what happened to him, is it?"

"I don't think so." Rinoa answered. She truly didn't. Even if a healing potion corrected the lesion in his brain, as she knew it would, the restored tissues would not regain what was lost due to the previous damage. What was lost would likely remain lost. Rinoa was only glad that the damage was not so profound that he was unable to recover any of his memories. So far, it seemed that only his recollection of the events that had caused his injuries was lost.

"Maybe it's just as well," Irvine said, half to himself.

Rinoa heard it though, intended or not, and nodded in agreement. "Maybe."

They lapsed into silence and Rinoa took that opportunity to search for Squall, closing her eyes to better concentrate on the bond and what she sensed from his end. He was awake, and not very receptive to her contact. She had to be careful so as not to confuse him...having what he perceived as dreams suddenly start bleeding into his waking state would be very disconcerting to him. So, she couldn't speak with him as yet. But she could sense his discomfort. He was in a lot of pain and being very stubborn about seeking relief from it. She sighed in exasperation, wishing she could tell him to just go and ask the woman with him, Maiere, to go ahead and give him some pain meds already. Obviously traveling was harder on him than he'd thought it would be, but she also could sense his determination. He _would_ get home. That was all he was focusing on and _that_ , along with Griever and his other GF's support, was what was helping him endure the journey.

"How's he doing now?" Irvine asked when she turned and saw him watching her in the deepening twilight.

"Hurting. He's in pain and being stubborn." she sighed.

Irvine snorted, "Typical." Then he reached out and gripped her shoulder gently, saying "You should go on to bed now. I know you ain't been sleeping well..."

Rinoa echoed his snort with one of her own, asking, "And you have?"

"No. But I think I will now that I know he's okay." Irvine answered her.

Rinoa turned then and wrapped her arms around him and simply held him. He did the same and they stood together in silence, soaking up what comfort from each other that they could.

Finally, he patted her back and whispered, "why don't you go on to bed? That little sprout in there needs his momma rested."

"What about you?" Rinoa asked him.

"I'm gonna turn in too, right after I check in with Selphie." Irvine assured her.

"Give her my love," Rinoa said, pulling away from him. She _was_ tired, so it wasn't too hard to convince her to go to bed. Nights spent stalking Squall's dreams did not make for a restful slumber for the sorceress.

But she wouldn't stop doing it. Not only because of the comfort it provided her, to finally feel connected with him, even if it was only through his subconscious, but also for what it gave to _him_ as well. He also felt comforted and safe; he'd told her as much when they'd met in his dream-space. And _that_ , Rinoa knew even if Squall did not, was more healing than any potion that could have been given him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Waiting is always the hardest part, isn't it? Well, be patient with me and I'll get another chapter cranked out as soon as my life allows me to...meanwhile enjoy this one. :D


	7. Shifting Sands

Maiere's truck shuddered as she hit yet another bump in the non-existent road that they were traveling, and Squall gritted his teeth as it sent pain jolting through his body. He knew it was going to be a rough trip, but he had to admit that he _might_ have overestimated his endurance just a tad. Still, he had insisted and therefore felt he had no cause to complain. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly when he was jarred yet again. It didn't help settle the nausea that was building in response to the pain that had begun as an ache after the first bump, and had gradually intensified to the point that he could almost taste it. Bitter, coppery and metallic, it lingered on the back of his tongue like black poison. Or perhaps that was merely blood from his bitten lip.

In an effort to distract himself from his discomfort, he engaged Teran in conversation, asking him, "How are you holding up back there Teran?"

"I'm alright." the boy answered. He was securely strapped into the rear seat of the extended cab, and despite the rough road, Maiere was being careful. Or as careful as she could be at any rate.

Teran studied Squall with a concerned frown. The man looked pale and ill, like he was about to throw up. The trip was obviously far harder on him than he'd anticipated it would be.

"How do you know your wife's gonna be there?" Teran asked him curiously.

"We promised, like I said." Squall answered.

"But what if she thinks you're dead? Is she still going to be there?" Teran wondered.

"She knows I'm not." Squall answered.

Teran gave him a confused look, "how does she know? Did you call her?"

Squall hesitated, unsure even _he_ believed that he'd spoken to Rinoa. It had been a dream, but at the same time, it had felt so _real_. Viewed in the harsh light of day, it seemed too ephemeral a thing to base such a dangerous and difficult journey upon. Yet his heart would not let him dismiss it as being merely a nighttime fantasy. Wishful thinking. _Something_ had felt real about it; it had contained truths that his waking mind could not recall until after he'd spoken to his wife in his dream. But how could he explain that to this child and his mother when he barely understood it himself?

Finally he answered, "She just...knows." Glancing back at the boy and seeing that he remained unconvinced, Squall added, "Call it faith. She believes in me. And I believe in her. We've never let each other down."

"Never?" Teran asked him.

"No. Never. Not when it really mattered." the moment Squall uttered those words, he knew they were true. The memories were suddenly just _there_.

The truck lurched and jolted again, despite Maiere's best efforts, and Squall grunted as it sent a fresh stab of pain up his half-healed leg. His stomach lurched as well and he closed his eyes tightly, swallowing. Maiere was driving as carefully as she could, and given the horrible terrain, Squall couldn't fault her driving skills at all. She was at least being careful that the truck not be damaged, and to his thinking, that was more important than making sure they all had a smooth journey, though in the end they both traveled hand in hand. He could neither protect them if they were stranded nor help repair the vehicle, so their only hope was to keep moving. He simply had to endure it.

He had survived worse.

He kept reminding himself of that, as his head started to throb in time with his leg and his ribs, and the nausea grew worse. No, it wasn't _quite_ as bad as being tortured by electroshock...but it was damn close.

"Are you okay Squall?" Teran asked him, sounding worried.

It took him a long time to respond; he had to unclench his jaw first.

"No." He answered, eyes still tightly shut. He didn't know if it would be better or worse to open them. He could feel a cold sweat starting, and he swallowed again, convulsively. The bright sun, the rough ride, the undulating, moving scenery...he decided against opening his eyes.

"Do you want us to stop for a minute? You know, to just take a break?" Teran asked.

"No." Squall answered through clenched teeth. Then he added, "just...talk to me."

"What about?" Teran asked. Talk? That was it? How was _that_ supposed to help?

"Anything. It doesn't matter."

"Why?" The boy asked, puzzled.

"It'll...help." Squall answered, then swallowed again, adding, "It'll give me something else to think about."

"Okay," Teran replied with a shrug, then he asked, "Do you remember how long you've been a SeeD?"

He did. "All my life."

Teran snorted, "You weren't _born_ a SeeD."

Squall managed a weak smile at that, "No, I wasn't. I graduated to SeeD at seventeen. Felt like it though, sometimes."

"How come?" Teran wondered.

"I was enrolled into the SeeD program the moment I set foot in Balamb Garden." Squall answered.

"How old were you?" Teran asked, tilting his head curiously. Squall's eyes were still tightly shut and his lips were pale. Teran snuck a quick glance at his mother, wondering if he should ask her to stop after all, but she was focused, fiercely, on driving the truck. He decided it was best not to disturb her for the moment.

"Six."

"Six? Is it too late for me if I want to be a SeeD?" Teran asked.

"No, but Balamb Garden won't take anyone older than ten for the SeeD program." Squall answered.

"Why?"

"It takes about ten years of intensive training to become a SeeD. You have to start out young." _So that you're not too old to be of any use when you've finally finished training._..Squall added mentally.

"What's it like, being a SeeD? What do you do?" Teran asked, curiously. He had only the vaguest of ideas of what Squall did and what he was. He knew he was a warrior of some type, but his perception of it was mixed up with romantic, fantastical stories of knights and dragons.

Squall took a chance and opened his eyes just a slit, and focused on Teran. His head still ached terribly, but as long as he kept his attention on the boy and not on the moving scenery outside the windows, he'd be okay. Rubbing his throbbing temples and hearing the rasp of the lengthening stubble on his head, Squall did his best to answer the question.

"SeeDs are mercenaries. They fight for money. Its...hard, sometimes." Shifting uncomfortably, he tried to brace himself as the truck jolted again, before continuing, "My rank is Commander. I'm the one that tells the SeeDs in Balamb Garden what to do, where to go."

Teran frowned, trying to understand what Squall had told him. Then he asked, "So, you're not a knight then?" He tried not to feel disappointed, but he'd been so _sure_...

"I am, but only for my wife." Squall answered, feeling that he should say no more on the subject. Something relating to that hovered just out of his mental grasp, something to do with Rinoa and with sorceresses. He clearly remembered pledging to be her knight, but was a little bit fuzzy still on the details surrounding that declaration.

Just because he'd started to remember things didn't mean they made any sense to him. He was still sorting out the jumble in his brain, and it took concentration and generated a lot of headaches for him to fit the images into some sort of context.

"Oh," Teran said, taking that answer at face value. It was the sort of thing that married grown-ups tended to say about each other. At least from what he could vaguely recall his father saying about his mother.

The terrain suddenly changed to a rough, washboard like track, and Maiere slowed way down, biting her lip as she held the steering wheel in a white-knuckled death grip. The truck shuddered and jounced regardless, and Squall couldn't quite suppress a quiet groan. He felt like his bones were being shaken apart. _Breathe_ , he told himself. _Just breathe._ He tried, but a band of pain across his chest stifled the attempt into a strangled gasp.

"Mom?" Teran asked, worried when Squall's already pale face turned ashen. "Can we stop?"

"Yeah sweetie," Maiere said, eyes still fixed on the track in front of them. "Do you need to go to the bathroom or something?"

"Uh, yeah. Something."

* * *

Teran actually _did_ need to go pee. The jouncing and shuddering had been getting more and more uncomfortable for _him_ as well. He shrugged when Squall opened one of his eyes and gave him a level look, then quirked one corner of his mouth in an almost smile.

"I guess we could all use a break. I swear my butt's going numb. I can only imagine how Squall's feeli..." Maiere was saying with a sigh as she slowed down and then stopped, turning toward Squall and gasping, "Oh, you _idiot_! Why didn't you ask me to stop before now?"

"Dangerous to. Safer to keep moving." He answered. He'd collapsed limply against the back of the seat and closed his eyes.

"Well, now you get to deal with me poking at you. So hold still." Maiere said firmly, ignoring his halfhearted attempts to fend her off by pushing her hands away and cursing weakly when she insisted.

She probed his ribs first, sighing in relief when she'd confirmed that they'd knitted well enough that the rough ride hadn't re-injured them. She frowned at the fact that his eyes were tightly closed most of the time, with him opening them only in narrow slits, as though the light hurt him. It likely did.

"Migraine?" She asked him. He nodded reluctantly. That explained the closed eyes and cold sweat. "Nausea too, right?" He nodded again, slowly.

Reaching behind the seat, she brought out her medkit and extracted two pills and a small bottle of water.

Then she fixed Squall with her best "Nurse No-Nonsense" glare and ordered, "Take these, before I shove them down your throat and hold your nose until you swallow."

Squall opened his eyes and returned the glare, though it's power was somewhat lessened by the fact that he was mostly squinting at her, and said, "I hate those. They make me feel...dopey and dizzy. And sick." Yeah, definitely not his strongest argument, but that was all he could come up with. Stupid migraine.

"Well then, I'd call that an improvement over your current state," She retorted dryly.

"You'll think improvement when I puke all over your front seat," He muttered.

"Don't care. I've dealt with worse." Maiere said. "Now, you have three seconds or you'll find me in your lap with my hand down your throat."

"Really?" he asked, watching her warily.

"Yes. Really."

"Fine." he relented with a sigh, holding his hand out. Maiere gave him the pills and he took them, draining the water as well. He supposed he could have tried to fake swallowing them, but didn't see the point, and side effects aside, they _did_ help with the pain.

"All right," Maiere said, satisfied, then opened the truck's door. "You just relax here and Teran and I will.."

A sudden stab of panic brought Squall out of his pain induced torpor and he gasped, "Wait! It's dangerous..."

"And I've got a shotgun. Relax." Maiere said, giving him a challenging look as she shouldered the weapon. Teran climbed out of the back seat on her side, shouldering a smallish rifle of his own.

Squall struggled to unstrap himself and opened the door on his side of the truck, swearing at the various sensations that resulted, growling, "I'm not _completely_ useless!"

He grabbed his cane, snarling at it as he did, and got out of the truck as carefully as he could. The moment his wieght shifted to his bad leg, pain shot up the leg and exploded into his head, leaving black spots dancing before his eyes. He grounded the cane for support and swayed, grabbing the side of the truck and taking a deep breath- which hitched at the twinges his half-healed ribs gave him- willing the dizzy fog to pass.

No, he couldn't _fight_ to protect them, but he could at least do... _something_. Something besides watching them go into dangerous territory without him.

_We can guard, Master._

It was the dragon in his head, Bahamut. The creature's speech to him had brought with it another wave of disorientation, but he did his best to ignore that and asked it mentally, _What do you mean?_

_We can repel most creatures that would seek to attack you. You and your companions would not see us, but the monsters in this place would sense our presence and leave you unmolested._

_Guard then_ , Squall told it in great relief.

His vision finally cleared and he saw both Maiere and Teran watching him in concern.

"So, you're insisting on coming with us?" Maiere asked dryly, one eyebrow raised.

"Yes."

"You look like you're about to collapse." she observed. The black tee-shirt and slim-fitting jeans he was wearing did little to dispel that appearance, contrasting rather unfavorably with his virtually colorless complexion. It also showed how terribly thin he'd gotten, though he _had_ managed to gain a bit more weight and looked a good deal more robust than he had even a week ago. Still, the image he presented was more frail than he probably wanted to admit to.

"I'll be fine." he insisted.

"Well, the exercise and fresh air can't hurt at least." Maiere replied. "Let's go. Teran needs to go water a tree." Then she slid him a sidelong glance.

"Yeah, me too." Squall said ruefully, catching her meaning. She snorted.

Teran, after having been confined in the back seat of the truck for what had felt like forever, was full of energy, bouncing and scampering about to the point that Squall was wondering if he shouldn't suggest Maiere call him to heel. It wouldn't do if the boy wandered off too far for his guardians to be of any use in protecting him.

"You know how to use that thing?" Squall asked, nodding at the rifle, catching his attention and drawing him back to his side.

"Yeah. Mom and I, we target shoot to stay sharp. Dad was just starting to teach me when he disappeared." Teran answered, slowing his pace to Squall's halting gait. Then a thought struck him and he asked, "Did you need to go too? Is that why you wanted to come along?"

"Yeah, something like that." Squall answered him. It was as good a reason as any.

"Oh, well, my mom won't look, so don't worry about that." Teran said, casting about for a suitable bush. There really weren't any trees, and precious little of any other types of vegetation. Just lots of rocks, dirt, sand...and dried wisps of ochre colored grass.

A thought struck the boy suddenly and he peered up at Squall and asked, "You won't look either, will you?"

Squall snorted, "No. You look old enough to handle things on your own." Then he looked Teran directly in the eye and added, "And I already know your father taught you manners."

"Yeah." Teran said, understanding Squall's oblique reminder to concentrate on his _own_ business.

They finally found a spot that he considered suitable, and he deliberately turned his back on the SeeD and waited as the man's shuffling footsteps receded. Then he quickly did what he had to do and sighed in relief. It had been a _very_ long drive, long enough that he'd begun to worry. Not just about the state of his bladder either.

He'd had to go anyway, but Squall's ashen color and obvious discomfort almost compelled him to ask his mother to stop. His dad had been like that too. He remembered his mother berating him once almost exactly the way she'd berated Squall. It was almost funny, in a poignant way.

Before he turned around, he called out, "I'm done!" to give Squall a heads-up. Just in case he was busy doing the same thing and hadn't finished yet.

"All right," Squall said, and Teran turned around and started back toward the truck.

Squall fell into step beside him, grimacing slightly and leaning heavily upon his cane. The gunblade hung at Squall's hip opposite his broken leg. The slim-fitting jeans were tight enough in the leg that he'd been able to put his splint boot on over them. So at least one source of frustration for him appeared to have been resolved. Teran wondered if the weapon's weight hindered him at all. It didn't appear to but it was difficult to tell from Squall's lurching gait.

Teran noticed Squall looking around almost constantly as they made their way back, and wondered about it, asking him, "what are you looking for?"

"Anything. Where'd your mother wander off to?" He asked in turn, gazing around with a frown.

"Dunno, she probably went to find a good place to do the same thing we did." Teran replied with a shrug.

Squall reply was a frown and a grunt.

"Don't worry, I'm pretty good with my rifle. Mom is too. So you don't have to worry about trying to fight anything." Teran said staunchly, thinking Squall's concern was due to the fact that he wasn't really strong enough to wield his weapon himself. Squall's tight-lipped glare as he looked away wasn't quite the reaction that Teran expected from that reassurance though.

"I'm not _completely_ helpless." Squall finally replied gruffly. There were the Guardians...really, his only weapons at this point. But they were pretty serious weapons.

Teran glanced up at him, wondering about that, then remembered. "The dragon?"

"Yes," Squall nodded.

They really hadn't wandered off too far; it just seemed as though they had due to Squall's diminished mobility. They were back at the truck before too long, meeting up with his mother who relaxed visibly upon seeing them.

They piled back into the truck and Maiere looked over at Squall, casting a glance back at Teran to include him as well as she asked, "everybody okay?"

Teran nodded, and Squall gave a half-hearted shrug in reply.

"Well, you look a little better Squall. Pain pills kick in finally?" She asked him with a quirk of her lips. His color had improved, and his carriage hinted that his pain was, if not eliminated entirely, at least diminished to a bearable level.

"Yeah. The fresh air did help too." He answered, then added, "Let's get going. It's best not to linger too long here."

"All right, if you think you can handle it." Maiere said, watching him closely.

Squall shrugged, "No choice. We _have_ to keep moving. My memories might be a little scrambled still, but I clearly recall fighting all sorts of nasties here."

"Well, hopefully we'll make it to the cape before it gets dark. If not, we'll have to camp." Maiere said, starting the engine and putting the truck into gear.

* * *

Squall frowned at that statement. Why hadn't he thought of that? The distance they had to travel over virtually nonexistent roads would make it unrealistic for him to expect that they'd reach the cape in six or eight or even twelve hours. And that was assuming that he could even endure the trip for that long. Come to think of it, they'd been traveling for over four hours when Teran had finally requested that they stop, and Squall had no idea how far they'd actually come, but as slow as they'd had to go, he rather doubted it was as far as he wanted it to be.

He glanced out the rear window of the truck at the bed, currently covered by a tarp, underneath which was an astounding amount of camping gear. He kicked himself mentally several times for not considering that, but he'd been so focused upon getting to the cape, and to Rinoa...He was an idiot. He'd put this woman and her boy in danger because of his selfish insistence that they take him to Rinoa..

_You did not insist. You asked. The woman agreed, and SHE knew, better than you did, what she faced._

Griever. Talking sense to him. A role that Shiva tended to take.

_The Ice Goddess agrees. We thought it easier if only one of us spoke to you at a time. You became confused, before._

Squall frowned, wondering, _before what?_

_Before you awakened._

He remembered. It was confusing, all the different voices that had clamored in his head. It was a little easier to sort out now, but the migraines that attacked at odd intervals tended to follow, if he concentrated too hard for too long. The medication that Maiere gave him for his pain had a soporific side effect, which Squall wasn't entirely happy with, though he had no problems with it when they were at her home. Now though, they were traveling in hostile territory and he felt he needed to be alert, despite the fact that there wasn't a great deal that he could do if something unfortunate happened. That limitation angered and frustrated him by turns, and fueled a drive to prove that he wasn't _completely_ helpless. He might not be able to fight _physically_ , but he could still call upon his GF's, and while not his preferred weapons to fight with, they _were_ one of his strongest ones.

"How's the head?" Maiere asked him, glancing over briefly before transferring her attention back to the road.

"Noisy." Squall answered without thinking. Maiere gave him a puzzled look and he shrugged, declining to elaborate, and turned his attention to the view outside the windshield. His head still hurt but it had been reduced to a dull, distant ache right along with the _other_ aches and pains that had been plaguing him. He blinked sleepily and sighed in irritation. The chemically induced drowsiness had dragged Squall into a hazy, half-sleep that he absolutely hated. He both craved sleep and found it eluded him; it was by turns annoying and frustrating.

"How long before we get there, mama?" Teran asked, also watching the shifting landscape as Maiere wrestled the truck over the rough terrain.

"It's around eight hundred kilometers to the cape," She answered. "I doubt we'll make it by nightfall, not at the speed we have to go. We'll likely have to camp somewhere and continue on in the morning."

Squall frowned at that. Realistically he'd considered that possibility, particularly as he had no real idea how long it would take for them to reach their destination. He didn't like it though. Even with the Guardians discouraging any attacks by the resident monsters, he didn't kid himself that they were safe. He knew there were monsters that the GF's could _not_ discourage. And those were the _truly_ dangerous ones.

He had his doubts about the efficacy of a small caliber rifle and larger caliber shotgun against one of those creatures. The Guardians though...he could summon one, if needed, though it might come at a cost to him. He clearly remembered that summoning required a bit more strength than he thought he had...plus there was the fact that they tended to be more effective in a planned attack. Less so in defense, though still better than nothing at all.

The rough, jostling ride guaranteed that Squall would not sleep, despite a drug-induced craving for it, so he did his best to simply endure it. His mind drifted in the half-awake fog he'd decended into, and he found his way to the dream place again where he'd found Rinoa previously.

_"So you finally let Maiere help you with your pain,"_ Rinoa said.

Just as she'd told him, all he'd done was think of her, and there she was.

_"I hate the way it makes me feel."_ He replied.

_"So you'd rather suffer instead?"_ she retorted, shaking her head in exasperation.

He got the feeling that this was not a new argument.

" _No, it isn't. You are exasperatingly consistent in that respect."_ Rinoa said ruefully.

Squall snorted mentally, _"Well, I guess it's good to know my personality hasn't changed in spite of my spotty memory."_

_"No. It hasn't."_ Rinoa said, approaching him and laying her hand against his cheek. He swallowed, eyes stinging. Gods, it felt so _real_ ; like she was _right there_ in front of him. How could this just be a dream?

_"It's not a dream, it IS real. I'm just not physically present. But our minds, our hearts, they're linked."_ Rinoa told him.

Another fragment of memory came to him then. The bond. The power it held because of Rinoa's magic..Magic that made her a sorceress. The way it melded them together, heart and soul, and how they fed the power it held with their love. He also remembered why he'd hesitated at telling Teran the real reason why he was indeed a knight. The boy had guessed right, he'd simply gotten the reason wrong.

_"Nida's looking for you in the Ragnarok."_ Rinoa told him after giving him a few minutes to process things. She sensed that he needed it.

_"I haven't seen it."_ Squall said, frowning.

_"Centra is vast. He may have missed you. Watch for him. He'll help if he finds you."_ Rinoa told him.

_"I will. I hope to see you soon."_ He said, his longing for her coloring the sending and washing over her, making Rinoa's heart ache.

_"I do too."_ Rinoa said, leaning into him and wrapping her arms around him. Squall responded in kind, closing his eyes and letting her love permeate his being. He needed this. Needed _her_.

It wasn't the same as physically holding her, feeling the warmth of her body, hearing her heartbeat, breathing her scent...but it _did_ serve to slake his soul-deep craving for her. One mind. One heart. Separated physically yet together in spirit.

_"I love you, Rinoa."_ His mind finally whispered to hers.

_"I love you too. We all do. We'll be waiting for you..."_

* * *

It was the most brutally exhausting undertaking that Maiere had ever attempted, driving down the length of the broken and desolated continent of Centra to reach the cape. They took frequent rest breaks; not just for Squall's benefit, though he was tense and tetchy when they did despite his needing it far more than he'd admit.

It was for her own and Teran's as well. They all had to eat, stretch legs, go to the bathroom...they couldn't ignore their bodily needs for long if they wanted to have as comfortable a journey as was possible.

She glanced into the rearview to check on Teran, who was asleep, despite the jostling ride. Kid could sleep through anything, she'd swear. Stealing a quick glance at Squall, she frowned slightly. He was slumped back into the seat, his face turned away from her. But he wasn't asleep. He lacked the boneless relaxation and regular breathing that would give it away. So, he was _awake_...but elsewhere.

She shook her head at that odd thought, but that was the feeling she got. That he'd simply checked out for awhile, not to sleep but to...daydream? Perhaps.

She glanced down at their compass, checking their orientation. On one of their rest breaks, Squall had managed to recall the coordinates of the ruins, then had taken their current coordinates and plotted the remainder of their route. So now she knew exactly where they were going and how far they'd come. She was glad. Whatever zen-like state he'd fallen into during the drive had ended up with him regaining one more piece of information that they'd all needed.

Head injuries were funny that way, particularly those that involved memory loss.

The engine's drone, and the rattling of the truck as she negotiated the rough terrain with as much finesse as she could, were the only sounds she could hear at the moment. The radio was broken, and they were well out of range of any broadcast anyway. She checked the time again, noticing the long shadows of late afternoon. They would have to find a safe place to camp soon, before it got dark.

The stifling heat of the afternoon was starting to loosen its grip a bit too. She had air conditioning in the truck but when the summer heat was at its peak, the truck's AC could barely keep pace with it. And the dust? Well, even with the windows closed it drifted in, dancing in microscopic motes in the slanting sunlight.

As she continued to drive, she became aware of an odd note to the sound of her truck's engine. At least, she _thought_ it was the engine. But as the note grew louder and higher in pitch, with no change in the way her truck handled, she began to wonder if it was something else, something that sounded like it was headed toward them. She slowed, craning her head around and even looking up in the blinding summer sky, seeing nothing. Then whatever it was screamed past, leaving behind a clap of thunder.

Maiere screeched to a halt, throwing up billowing clouds of dust, shaken. The sonic boom and her subsequent panic stop had startled Teran awake and snapped Squall's head around to stare at her, ice-blue eyes bright, alert and wary. No, he hadn't been asleep, she thought irrelevantly.

"Mom?" Teran asked, looking wildly around. "What _was_ that?"

"I don't know," She answered, heart pounding, still staring at Squall.

He didn't say anything, but his expression told her that _he_ knew what it was. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him, but before she could he unstrapped himself and opened the door, his movements betraying his urgency in exiting the vehicle as quickly as possible.

Half-stifled cursing illustrated the fact that he could not do so without cost, but still he managed, grabbing his cane and hop-hobbling away from the truck, attention directed skyward. Despite his awkward gait, he actually managed to move fairly quickly.

"Squall!" Maiere called after him, putting her truck into park, shutting off the engine and getting out to follow him. "Wait! What is it?"

He didn't answer immediately. Instead he kept gazing intently at the sky, leaning heavily on his cane while shading his eyes with his free hand, still squinting in the bright afternoon sunlight.

Had the pilot seen them? Would he come back? _Come on_...he thought, willing the airship to turn around and come back for them. Rinoa had told him they were looking...

"What was that?" Maier asked him again, following his example and looking at the sky as well...and seeing nothing.

"It was the Ragnarok." He answered, gazing after it.

"The what?" Maiere asked him, wondering.

"The Ragnarok" Squall aswered, glancing back at her and explaining, "its an airship."

Maiere raised her eyebrows, and asked, "Really? Do you think they saw us?"

"I don't know."

"Maybe we should just wait here for them. They're bound to see us if they do another flyby. They _are_ looking for you, right?" Maiere asked.

"Yes, they are." Squall answered.

"Well then, maybe we should just make camp here. There's a better chance of them finding us if we do." Maiere said.

Squall nodded, saying, "Yes, though there's no water nearb-"

He stopped short, midsentence, and went still, eyes going unfocused. Maiere frowned in concern, worried that he might be having some type of seizure. She watched him closely and reached out to touch his shoulder. It was tense, rigid. Maiere's worry intensified. She swallowed and licked her lips, opening her mouth to call out his name to see if he'd respond. Before she could however, Squall's gaze leaped to hers so abruptly that she jumped in surprise.

"Get back in the truck!" he ordered urgently. "Now!"

"What?" She asked, confused.

Grabbing the hand she'd rested on his shoulder, he somehow managed to turn her around so that she was facing the truck, and gave her a hard shove toward it.

"I don't have time to explain this! Just do it!" He barked, turning away to look wildly around behind them while attempting, awkwardly, to back toward the truck. Whispering obsceneties under his breath the whole time. She took two quick steps toward her truck, hesitated, then set her jaw and came back to his side.

"What's going on? Is something coming?" She asked.

Squall snapped his head around and glared at her, "Yes! Now GO!"

"And leave you here to hobble back on your own Gimpy? Are you stupid?" He stared at her, shocked. And angry. And...scared. Maiere swallowed. He was _scared_. That sent a shaft of fear right into _her_ heart.

"Come on then," Maiere said, forcing herself to remain calm as she moved in and ducked under Squall's arm on his injured side, offering her support. "We can both move alot faster together."

Glancing at her, he sighed, "Right." They both moved toward the truck with as much speed as they could manage, Squall still looking around for whatever it was that had him so spooked.

"What's coming?" she asked him, not reassured at all by the fact that he was shaking. She looked around too but saw nothing but trackless desert for miles. Surely if something was after them, they'd be able to see it long before its proximity would generate such a fear response.

"Marlboro." he said with tight lips. They'd walked too far from the truck. Even as fast as they were moving, he feared that they wouldn't make it in time, despite being mere meters from it. Marlboros were deceptively fast...

"But," she looked around again, still seeing nothing. Was he hallucinating?

"You never see them until it's too late. Camouflage." He said tersely.

Maiere swallowed. _Shit_. They redoubled their efforts and made it to the truck, flinging themselves inside with ungainly haste. Squall slammed the door shut and started fastening his seatbelt, urging her "Go! GO NOW!"

She didn't argue, instead starting the truck and flinging it into gear...and screaming as...something...exploded from the dirt right next to the truck with a bone-shivering shriek. There was a confused impression of flailing tentacles and an open, dripping maw through the clouds of dust that sent Maiere's heart straight into her throat. She hit the gas and hauled the steering wheel away from the monstrosity, screaming again as something hit the side of the truck with a metallic thunk, causing the vehicle to lurch, forcing Maiere to fight to regain control. Teran's echoing screams as the creature's attack had startled him awake, didn't help.

Dust and rocks flung from the truck's tires as it sped away, Maiere doing her best to keep control over the truck and _herself_...staving off blind panic by the thinnest of barriers.

"Moooom!" Teran exclaimed. "What was that?" He looked back out the rear window, eyes wide, but saw only dust billowing from the truck's spinning wheels.

"Squall called it a...a m-marlboro," she answered, teeth chattering from fear and from the washboard texture of the barely discernable road they traveled. She glanced over at Squall, who was staring intently out the rear window, his tension palpable.

"Are we...?" she asked, swallowing.

He directed his attention to her briefly, and she shuddered at what she saw in his eyes, before returning to his intent study of what was..or was _not_ ...behind them.

"We need to keep moving. Marlboros won't chase, but they _will_ track...to a point. We need to get out of its range." He sighed and closed his eyes briefly. "I'm just glad it didn't decide to release its spores..."

"Spores?" Teran asked, curiously.

Squall flicked his eyes over to him, and answered, "It's a carnivorous plant-based creature. It releases poisonous spores like a gas, to disable its victims and make them easier to...catch. They're extremely toxic, and we're miles away from anywhere that might have an antidote for it."

"How do you know so much about them?" Teran asked. The monster had been terrifying...made even more so by the fact that even the _SeeD_ appeared to be scared of it.

"I've...fought them before. More than once. They're very hard to kill but it can be done if you know the right tricks. But I don't like fighting them even when I'm well equipped for it and in good shape...there's more than one occasion where I'd have died if I hadn't had backup."

Maiere swallowed. No wonder he was so scared of the thing. Alone, weak, injured, and ill-equipped...He'd never make it. No, Squall wasn't stupid, despite her telling him exactly that. Then a realization hit her.

"You were going to sacrifice yourself to distract it, weren't you? So we could get away."

Squall snorted, "I'm not that noble. I'm not interested in dying, I have a date, remember?"

"If you say so. For some reason, I don't believe you." Maiere said, knuckles white from the grip she had on the steering wheel. "How did you know it was even coming? I had no clue and it was _right there_..." she shuddered at the unbidden memory of a living nightmare exploding from the dust next to her truck.

"I was warned." Squall said. "One of my Guardians sensed it."

Teran perked up at hearing this, asking, "Which one?"

Squall directed his attention to the boy and answered, "Shiva. She's...she watches."

Intriegued, Teran tilted his head and wondered, "What are they like, your Guardians? How come we can't see them? Are they invisible?"

Squall frowned, wondering how much to tell the boy and how best to explain his GF's. Finally he answered, "They exist outside this dimension, usually. But they can be summoned, _called_ , to this plane to serve whomever they're bound to. I've got three Guardians that are... _Bound_...to me right now."

"Do they have names?" Teran asked. Squall had told him the dragon at least had a name, but he didn't remember if the others were mentioned.

"Yes. There's Shiva, Bahamut and Griever." Squall answered.

"Bahamut's the dragon, right?" Teran asked.

"Yes," Squall confirmed.

"What about the other ones? What are they?" Teran asked him.

"Shiva is an ice elemental. She normally appears as a beautiful blue woman covered in ice crystals..like diamond dust. And Griever...He's sort of like a giant, purple, winged lion." Squall answered.

"Kind of like the etching on your gunblade." Teran observed.

"Yes."

Teran pondered that for a minute, then asked, "Griever's purple?" He tried to visualize that. It sounded funnier than the image his mind conjured up.

"Well, purple and white. His wings are white, and he's got a silvery white mane and glowing blue eyes." Squall replied.

From faintly ridiculous, the image in Teran's mind morphed into something more regal. He wondered if he'd ever get to see these fanciful creatures that Squall was telling him about.

"What's Bahamut look like?" Teran finally asked.

Squall smiled slightly at that, surprised it had taken the boy so long. "His scales are a steely, silvery blue, and the undersides of his wings are scarlet."

"Wow." Teran whispered, adding the colors to his memory of the moon-washed dragon shape he'd seen belching fire, the night Squall had been injured. "He sounds awesome!"

An amused rumble from the Guardian in question broadened Squall's smile a bit. A bit vain, Bahamut was, and happy to be admired, he sent Squall his wordless approval of the boy's assesment.

"He says thank you." Squall said, snorting slightly at the grave dignity with which the dragon had delivered that response.

Teran's eyes widened, "He _talks_ to you?"

"Yes. A lot, sometimes." Squall answered.

"Squall?" Maiere's tense voice interrupted them. "We need to stop soon. It's getting dark and...and I can't keep this up all night." She swallowed and asked, "are we...out of range?"

Squall closed his eyes briefly and fell silent, and Maiere shot a quick glance at him, concerned. She was about to say something to get his attention, worried at his distracted look, but he came out of it before she could and focused on her.

"We're out of range." He peered alertly out the windshield, and added, "Head that way. See that smudge there? That's a forest."

"Is it safer?" she asked.

"It's cover at least. And trees usually mean water." Squall answered.

"I suppose that'll have to do." She sighed. Not for the first time, she worried that she'd taken on more than she should have. What had she been thinking? With things like that marlboro running around out there, she had no idea if they'd even make it to where they were going. There was a reason she didn't hunt. The men who did had told her and her husband what they'd seen, and the lucky ones had even brought back trophies of the bizzarities that existed out in the wild. The unlucky ones...never came back at all.

As though he'd read her mind, Squall's voice cut through the silence like a razor through silk as he said softly, "I'm not _completely_ defenseless. I still have a dragon I can call if I need to. And my Guardians will warn me if anything approaches." _With any luck, they'll be able to deter anything that the forest might have hiding in it_...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY! Another chapter finished! More stuff to come... this time I decided to let this cool for a bit before going over it and editing and so on...I don't like to rush and wanted to make sure this chapter was a good one. Things are going to get more interesting soon...enjoy and thanks for reading!


	8. Steadfast Hearts

The moon rode high and bright in the mid-watch of the night as Saber paced the perimeter of the camp. His mother didn't know he and Julia had volunteered to take a turn on guard duty. They didn't _have_ to; it had been emphasized to them both more than once. They weren't officially part of the SeeD team that had been assigned to assist, and therefore weren't required to take on any of their duties.

But it was a point of pride for them both to do so, despite how young they were. The squad leader was hesitant, mainly owing to the fact of their parentage, but in the end relented for essentially that same reason. Both kids, despite being young cadets, were precocious in their training. Plus, they had an edge that no other cadets did.

 _"Jue,"_ he sent to his twin, Julia. _"Status on your side of camp?"_

 _"All quiet,"_ she returned.

No cadets worked better in tandem than the Leonhart twins. Nobody but their parents knew for sure why, but everyone attributed it to the unique bond that twins shared. That was at least a partial explanation for it, and a better one than the fact their mother was a sorceress and they'd likely inherited some of her abilities.

It was a privately held opinion by many of their instructors that these particular cadets had the potential to be very impressive SeeDs, possibly even surpassing their parents.

 _"Can you hear dad?"_ he asked his sister.

 _"No, he's out of range,"_ she replied. _"Only mom can reach him and she's asleep right now."_

Saber didn't reply, his silence portraying his dissatisfaction.  
Julia felt the same, but there wasn't much they could do about it. Both felt their mother was holding something back regarding their father, and it worried them. They were only slightly reassured that she'd confirmed he was alive and mending; they'd have known if she'd attempted to mislead them on that point. It was a gift, and a curse, that ability.

 _"Gods, sentry duty is boring,"_ Saber complained, pacing his route.

He almost hoped something would attack to relieve the tedium.

 _"Better be glad it is,"_ Julia retorted. _"Do you REALLY want something to attack with mom and Misty RIGHT THERE?"_

 _"No! Of course not!"_ He sent back, then subsided, frustration and worry evident.

Julia reminded him of one of their father's lessons; an only partially successful attempt at teaching them both patience. Julia had understood the gist of it, but Saber had struggled. He was always the more impulsive of the two.

 _"Early bird gets the worm,"_ he sent, unrepentant.

 _"Act in haste, repent at leisure,"_ she shot back.

_"Stick in the mud."_

_"Featherbrain."_

_"Am not!"_

_"Are too!"_

_"No I'm n- wait,"_ Saber paused, sensing something.

_"What?"_

_"I heard something."_

Julia snapped back to her surroundings, kicking herself mentally for getting caught up in the argument rather than paying attention to her duties. Like her father had taught her, she used _all_ of her senses, not just sight, sighing in relief when she detected nothing.

 _"All quiet in my quadrant, what is it?"_ she asked Saber.

 _"I don't know,"_ he replied, gazing around and straining his own senses. There was no breeze, but he'd heard something move the dry brush nearby. He took a deep sniff, hoping it wasn't anything truly unpleasant.

All he smelled was cooling, sunbaked earth and pine resin from the sheltering trees. He sighed with relief; not a marlboro then.

His father had told him that if he was alert enough, he'd _smell_ them coming. He'd also ordered him to run if he did, in a tone that allowed no argument.

A slithering sound nearby sent a chill up his spine and he froze, gunblade ready. He and Julia were both junctioned with lower level GFs, really only useful for drawing and stocking magic, but they were better than nothing. He set his stance and moved to face the direction from which he'd heard the sound, straining his vision to penetrate the shadows cast by the moon.

A hissing growl told him what it was the moment the geezard launched itself at him. There was no time to raise an alarm, and it was only a geezard anyway, so he simply danced aside and slashed down with his gunblade, catching the thing a glancing blow just behind its ugly head.

 _"Saber!"_ Julia sent in alarm, sensing the battle he'd just joined.

 _"It's only a geezard,"_ he said. _"It's nothing to bother about."_

He watched the monster regroup and get ready to charge at him again. He readied a thundaga spell, just in case, though he really didn't want to make that much fuss over such a low-level monster.

 _"Idiot! There could be more!"_ Julia yelled back. _"You know they sometimes travel in groups! I'm going get Sarcen."_

 _"No! Jue, I've got this!"_ he protested, watching as the creature attacked again, hissing hideously. His attention zeroed in on the lizard like creature, watching it closely and waiting for the right moment.

He stepped aside again when it got close, snapping at him. He brought his gunblade down on the reptile's thick, armored neck with all his strength, pulling the trigger as it bit though the flesh. The resulting damage left the creature mortally wounded and it shrunk back, dying.

Stumbling back, heart pounding, Saber swiped his arm across his face to wipe away the sweat, panting. He felt shaky, the ebbing flood of adrenaline suddenly leaving him feeling weak. He was in no way prepared for the second attack which leapt at him from behind.

It was nearly on top of him when he heard the monster's hissing growl and deceptively fast, slithery approach and he whirled, heart in his throat, automatically bringing his gunblade up to guard, knowing already it was too late.

Suddenly, two shotgun blasts split the night with fire and noise, striking the monster and flinging it a half-dozen meters away.

A metallic click sounded from the darkness as Irvine cocked his shotgun again.

"You should have called for backup," he said in his distinct and familiar drawl.

He stepped out of the trees and the moonlight illuminated his grim expression and the shotgun he rested on his shoulder.

"Gods..." Saber whispered weakly. That had been close. Too close.

 _"Too right!"_ Julia cut in, fear and anxiety, as well as frustration, coloring her overtones.

"What are you doing out here anyway?" Irvine asked him.

"Julia and I volunteered to help with watch..." Saber began, his elation at defeating the monster melting away under Irvine's stern glare. Understandable, in light of his near-miss.

"Yeah, well your watch is over. Go to bed. _Both_ of you," Irvine replied firmly, knowing Saber would relay the message to Julia.

"But..." Saber protested.

"I'll cover it. Tell Sarcen." Irvine ordered.

Saber sighed, knowing better than to argue with a senior SeeD, uncle or not.

"All right. Good night, Uncle Irvine," he said, turning to leave. Irvine gripped his shoulder, stopping him.

"You didn't do too badly, kiddo. Just give yourself a little more time to prepare. You're nearly there. Don't rush it," Irvine said gently, releasing him with a pat.

"Thanks," Saber said, heading toward his tent.

Julia had informed him that she'd already reported the incident and Irvine's intervention to the squad leader, Sarcen. He fully expected a tongue lashing in the morning from him. He spent the remainder of the night, as he lay in his sleeping bag, mentally listing the mistakes he'd made.

He fully intended to identify each and every one of them so as not to repeat them.

* * *

The next morning brought a serious dressing-down by Sarcen for both Saber and Julia. Saber bore the brunt for his rash action in engaging the geezard without first calling an alert, and Julia for not doing so the moment she became aware of Saber's battle.

They were summarily assigned to KP duty for the remainder of their sojourn in Centra, with instructions to peel potatoes and shine cook-pots until there were none left.

Of course, that was rather a light punishment, when compared with what their mother had in store for them when that was over. There was no question of hiding it from her. She knew the moment she woke up, and her displeasure had burned in the backs of both of their minds as a counterpoint to Sarcen's censure.

"What are they gonna do with all these potatoes anyway?" Saber grumbled, as he peeled away at a large spud.

"We've had fried potatoes at breakfast and baked or mashed potatoes pretty much every night we've been here," Julia snorted, her hand stuck inside a giant pot she had been scrubbing for almost an hour.

"You've been too busy eating them to pay attention."

They at least gave her some rubber gloves to wear to save her hands from being chapped, but that was pretty much the only concession she'd been given.

Saber frowned at this, then sighed quietly, working the peeler and finishing the potato, then tossing it into a bucket of water with the rest.

"Think she's told dad yet?" he wondered.

"Dunno. She might not have wanted to bother him with it. Not just yet, anyway," Julia answered.

Saber grunted in reply, lapsing into silence as he worked on his next potato.

 _"He'll be pissed when he finds out,"_ Saber thought.

 _"Probably,"_ Julia replied. Saber shot her a glare, and she replied with a shrug.

 _"I'm in it too, you know. We'll both get it, so don't act like you're the only one in for a father/Commander lecture_."

 _"Yeah, I guess you're right,"_ he responded.

_"He can be taught!"_

_"Ha, ha. Little miss perfect."_ He snarked back.

 _"Hardly."_ she snorted mentally.

_"Got that right! "_

This time it was Julia's turn to glare at him. He matched her, glare for glare, then they both suddenly burst out laughing.

"You're never gonna manage it, you know," she said. "Your eyes are the wrong color."

Saber snorted. "Well, at least mine are blue- _ish_. Yours are almost the same color as your hair, which is just weird."

Julia frowned at this. Her eyes were definitely an unusual shade of red-brown, nearly identical to her titian hair color. It kind of creeped her out a bit, truth be told.

"You look too much like grandpa. Nobody's gonna take you seriously," Julia said, adding, "Face it, neither one of us is going to even come close to dad's best death-glare. Your eyes are too sparkly and mine are the wrong color."

Saber's eyes also held far too much humor and mischief to even come close to being intimidating, she thought.

"Eh, just need to work at it a bit more, that's all," Saber said with a shrug, returning his attention to his potato peeling.

 _"Do you really think dad's going to be all right?"_ Saber sent, unable to hide his worry.

 _"I hope so, I just wish I knew what mom wasn't telling us,"_ Julia replied. Saber agreed silently.

As bad as Squall's father/Commander lectures were, both Saber and Julia would gladly endure them if the alternative was never having their father lecture them again.

 _"I miss him,"_ Saber thought.

 _"Yeah, me too,"_ Julia replied.

"I wish..." Saber began, then paused.

"What?"

"I wish there was something we could do to help. Anything." He frowned down at the potato he held in his hand. "Besides _this_."

"Well, right now this is what we're supposed to do, so might as well get it over with," Julia shrugged.

Saber grumbled under his breath but continued with his peeling, knowing that he really didn't have much choice at the moment. Even if he decided to do something and hang the consequences, how much help could he actually be anyway? He had no idea where his father even was, much less how to help him get home.  
All he, or anyone else knew, was that he was on his way. But nobody, not even eagle-eyed Irvine, had been able to find him in the vast, trackless desert landscape that comprised the bulk of Centra's topography.

In reality, there was nothing that he or Julia, or their mother for that matter, _could_ do but wait. And waiting was his least favorite thing to do.

* * *

"What are you gonna do with them?" Irvine asked Rinoa as they walked back from the mess tent.

Misty skipped ahead happily with Jello as they headed back toward their own tent.

The twins had taken breakfast with the SeeDs, under Sarcen's steely gaze. Both had looked suitably chastised, and had studiously avoided looking at her for fear of what _her_ reaction might be.

"I don't know," Rinoa sighed. She understood their viewpoint, but Saber's behavior in particular bordered on reckless, something that Squall had taken the boy to task over more than once.

"I sometimes forget that they're only twelve. I mean, I want them to be kids for a while yet, but when you're in training to be a SeeD, it's different. Squall knows it far better than I do, so he's better at counseling them. Me? I just worry."

"It's no different for Selphie and I," Irvine said. "It's hard to believe that at the rate your kids are going, they'll be eligible for their field exam in just two or three years."

"Squall's not letting them test until they're at least seventeen, and that's if _he_ thinks they're ready," Rinoa gave Irvine an earnest look, adding, "Squall and I, we don't necessarily _want_ our children to be SeeDs, and he's told them over and over that they don't need to prove anything to _him_."

"They'll want to just the same," Irvine said. "You know that. That was what last night was about."

"You're more than likely right," Rinoa said.

"You know, the kid wasn't half bad, considering he's just a weedy twelve year old." Irvine conceded. "He really should have had Julia there for backup instead of on the other side of camp, though. Those two work much better when they stick together."

Rinoa laughed softly at his assessment, "Don't let him hear you call him weedy. He's a little sensitive about being so skinny."  
"Well, he'll grow into his height. I'm sure Squall looked weedy at twelve too." Irvine said.

"I'm sure he did. I don't remember if he'd mentioned that to Saber or not though," she replied.

"Maybe remind him? Might do the kid some good to know that. We all went through that gawky stage at one time or another in our lives," Irvine said with a shrug.

"Yeah," Rinoa sighed. "I wish..."

Irvine glanced over at her, "Me too. You haven't heard anything yet?"

"No, not from Nida anyway." Rinoa frowned and reached out to Squall, touching his mind lightly, for reassurance. He was alert and awake, but seemed preoccupied. His emotional and physical state weren't terribly comforting but there wasn't much that she could do about it. He was stressed, anxious and as usual, in pain. But underlying it all was determination. He _would_ get home. He held to that thought like it was his only lifeline. Perhaps it was.

 _"I am here,"_ she sent to him, hoping that was enough of a beacon to call him to her side.

"He mentioned something about checking back later today," Irvine said. "Hopefully he'll have some good news, or Squall with him when he does. Meanwhile, I guess the only thing we can do is sit tight and wait."

"That's the worst part. Waiting is something I've always struggled with," Rinoa sighed, frowning down at her feet as they walked.

"So that's why he always took you with him on missions! And here I thought it was for your healing skill!" Irvine chuckled.

"You know very well it was both. I _did_ help, and I simply refused to be left behind," Rinoa said firmly.

"That you did. You two made a great team too," Irvine said. Then he gave her a half-smile and added, "Still do."

"Glad you think so," Rinoa replied, her attention directed to Misty and their dog. She was playing some kind of game involving a stick, which had the dog barking madly and happily. It was amazing how much emotion, for lack of a better word, the animal could communicate with just its barks and whines.

"I'm not the only one," Irvine said seriously. "I honestly don't think it would be as ... dangerous as you think for people to learn you're a sorceress. More people in SeeD than you think are aware of it. You've proved you're not a threat."

"Not _yet_ ," Rinoa said softly. "I'm fully aware that to those people, I'm a ticking time bomb. I know they watch me. Squall does too. So far, they've kept a lid on it for us and not broadcast it to the world at large. But if I make even one mistake…"

Irvine sighed and his eyes dropped to his feet. "I know."

"I still think its better that as few people as possible know about it. About me. Safer for all of us," Rinoa said, looking away for a moment and letting her gaze rest on her daughter.

"Yeah. I can see that. But Selphie and I, you know we'll always have your back, Rin. You and Squall," Irvine said solemnly.

"I know. Thank you Irvine," Rinoa replied. There was really nothing much else to say to that.

"Mummy! Mummy come lookee what Jello's doing!" Misty's small voice piped up, drawing Rinoa's attention like a magnet.

Misty had run ahead with the dog to the very edge of the flower field, not far from where their tents were situated. As the area was patrolled frequently, Rinoa felt safe in letting her daughter play in the field and the bordering forest.

Curious at what the dog was getting up to, Rinoa increased her pace, Irvine's strides matching hers, as she headed over to see what they were doing. Misty was doing nothing but standing at the edge of the flower field, pointing at Jello. Jello was standing firmly between the child and something, barking and growling every time the girl made a move toward her. There was nothing of aggression in the dog's manner, rather a watchful, guarding stance, as though the animal were trying to warn Misty away from something dangerous.

In other words, the dog was doing exactly what she'd been trained to do.

Rinoa placed her hand gently on Misty's shoulder. "Hi baby, what's Jello got over there?"

"I don't know mummy, and she won't let me see." Misty said, pouting.

"Why don't you stay here and Uncle Irvy and I will have a look then?" Rinoa said, glancing over at Irvine, who nodded.

"Okay," the litte girl answered, folding her arms across her chest.

"Jello," Rinoa said, getting the dog's attention. Bright, intelligent brown eyes gazed steadily at Rinoa, ears pricked forward. "Show me," she ordered the dog.

They headed out into the flower field, and Irvine took out his Exeter rifle and made sure it was loaded and cocked. Jello pricked up her ears and scampered off into the field a few meters away, stopping to wait for them, panting.

"What do you think it is?" Irvine asked her quietly as they followed after the dog.

"She's only been trained to alert to anything _really_ dangerous," Rinoa answered. "But, whatever it is, I don't think it's an immediate danger. So maybe she's caught the scent of something we need to be watching for."

"Hm," Irvine grunted, holding his rifle aimed straight ahead, scanning the area they traversed.

They finally made it to where the dog sat waiting for them, with her tongue lolling as she panted. She stood as they approached and walked a few steps away, then pointed her nose at something. She scratched at it, whining softly, then sneezed and looked expectantly at them.

"Well, let's see what you've got there, Jello," Irvine said, bending down to inspect what it was the dog had been pawing at. He immediately drew back with a whispered curse and whipped his rifle up, scanning the area much more urgently than he had before.

"What is it?" Rinoa asked, alarmed. When he didn't answer she repeated, "Irvine, what?"

"Get back to camp," he said sharply.

"Irvine..."

"Marlboro tentacles. _Three_ of them. All loaded with venom and _fresh_ ," he answered tersely.

Rinoa stared at him, blood draining from her face. _Marlboro tentacles._ A Marlboro had been mere meters from them just hours ago, and they'd been completely unaware of it. Worse, her children had been out guarding the camp, and could have potentially encountered it. Hard upon this realization came another, even more frightening one: her children hadn't encountered it because _something else_ had found it first ... and killed it.

"What can kill and … eat a _marlboro_?" she asked through pale lips.

"Not a whole hell of a lot ... and nothing you want to run into alone at night."

* * *

Irvine scanned the surroundings, then carefully picked up the tentacles to bring back. As deadly as the venom they contained was, the only way to produce antivenin was to obtain that venom. The tentacles, still relatively fresh, more than likely contained enough of the poison to be both extremely deadly and very useful.

As they headed back, Rinoa turned to him, asking "What do you think _did_ this?"

He frowned, shaking his head. "The traces were pretty hard to read. It was big, but it wasn't a dragon. I mean, there are hexadragons and blue dragons here in Centra but they're mostly in the mountains. Likewise with the red dragons, and really, they're the only things that I can think of that would be able to kill and actually eat a Marlboro without dying from the poison. Dragons are highly resistant to bio toxins. But there's no sign of char."

"Behemoth?" Rinoa wondered.

"No. Not here," he replied. "If it was Esthar ,maybe; there's plenty of them there. All I know, is it has to be big, possibly the size of a dragon, or a behemoth … maybe a T-Rexaur. But something _that_ big; I just can't believe that nobody heard or saw anything. It was so close that if nothing else, we should have felt the impact tremors it left behind as it walked."

"Maybe it wasn't that big? Maybe it was something smaller, lighter ... but equally as deadly?" Rinoa wondered.

Irving glanced at her, and his expression turned grim as he considered that. "I can't think of any one thing that's small and stealthy enough for us not to have noticed it getting this close to our camp, while in the meantime being ferocious enough to take out a Marlboro."

"More than one? A pack maybe?" Rinoa wondered.

"Grendels?" Irvine considered, then shook his head. "I don't know. I don't think so. It was pretty cut up where the thing died, but I doubt there was more than one of whatever it was."

"What did you see there anyway? All _I_ saw was a bunch of scuffs in the dirt." Rinoa asked.

"I saw the imprint of the Marlboro's body where it fell," he said. "A puddle of its blood that, I guess, had soaked into the dirt and dried, so it was pretty hard to see. There were some tufts of some kind of fur... and some furrows in the dirt like claw marks. Not a lot to go on, but the fur offers a clue. It's always possible that whatever it was actually died from eating it too, so we might ultimately be worrying for nothing."

"But you don't think so," Rinoa said.

"I don't want to make any assumptions that could be deadly for us all," he answered seriously.

"All right. Will you go tell Sarcen?" she asked.

"Yeah. Better safe than sorry. He'd say the same."

Rinoa had wanted to go with him when he did, but Misty demanded her attention as soon as they returned. She waved Irvine on as she took her daughter's hand to lead her toward their tent.

"Give me an update later. I need to put Misty down for a nap," she said, while starting toward her tent.

"You should take one yourself. You look tired," Irvine said.

Rinoa snorted. "Thanks, I think."

"Just a simple observation ma'am." Irvine replied with a smirk.

"All right," she relented. she _was_ tired, and a nap wouldn't be a bad idea.

"I'll have Reive look in on you two in a bit. Make sure you're okay," Irvine said.

"Thanks."

* * *

She gave Irvine a sketchy wave and turned toward the tent, little hand held firmly in hers. "Come on Misty, let's go take a little rest," she said, looking down at her.

"Can you tell me stories?" Misty asked.

"Of course. Which stories would you like?" Rinoa asked.

"Real stories. The ones that have daddy in them," Misty replied skipping alongside Rinoa, then dropping her hand and hopping into the tent like a bunny.

Rinoa smiled at her energy, wondering how in the world she'd settle down for a nap. Then again, stories about Squall's stimulating feats of derring-do involving stacks of paper while at work as Commander, was sure to put _anyone_ to sleep, much less a precocious preschooler.

"Which story do you want to hear?" Rinoa asked, as she awkwardly bent down to take off hers and Misty's shoes.

She helped her lie down on the sleeping bags, spread across the floor of the tent. Jello took up her accustomed position lying across the entrance to the tent, immediately going on guard, ears pricked up and alert.

"Good girl, Jello," Rinoa said softly. The dog flicked an ear back, then turned to look at her, tongue lolling in a doggy smile, then returned to her guard stance.

"The angel story," the little girl answered, snuggling down next to Rinoa.

Rinoa frowned. "Which story is that? I don't remember telling you a story about angels."

"Daddy told it to me." Misty answered, yawning.

Rinoa thought for a moment, wondering what story Squall had told Misty. Angel was one of Squall's favorite pet names for her, the other one being _brat_. But he used them rarely, usually when they were alone together.

"I'm sorry sweetie, but I'm not familiar with that story. Do you want me to tell you about daddy's battles with the Evil Stapler instead?" Rinoa asked her.

Misty giggled softly. "That's a silly one. This was a nice story about daddy waking up in the flowers."

Rinoa smiled, recalling now which story she was referring to.  
"I see," she said. Reaching out, she brushed a lock of dark hair away from her daughter's face, caressing her delicate cheek.

"Your daddy had fought a hard battle, together with his friends, to extinguish an evil that threatened everyone. At the end of the battle, we all had to think of a place in our minds where we wanted to go, so we could get home. But your daddy couldn't think of a place, only a person, and so he became lost."

"Daddy said that you were the person he was thinking about."

"Yes. We were stuck in an in-between place and were trying to get home. Everyone else managed to but ... he didn't. Your daddy wandered in this place, tired and injured from his battles, looking for me until he collapsed from exhaustion," Rinoa went on, voice going quiet as she remembered how she'd found him. Dead, or nearly so. She _still_ wasn't completely sure which it was.

"Is daddy really a knight?" Misty asked, yawning again.

"Yes, he is."

"How did you find daddy, if he was lost?"

"His heart called to mine, and it drew me to him. I found him lying in the flowers, badly injured, dying ... but I was able to ... heal him."

"Can you find him now?" Misty asked, eyes drifting closed.

"He will find us." I hope, Rinoa thought.

Satisfied with that answer, the tired toddler surrendered to her body's demands for sleep, and Rinoa was close to following her, but she hovered on the edge of it, until she became aware of a presence.

_"Griever."_

_"Yes, Mistress."_

_"Why are you here?"_

_"Master bade me come to watch over you."_

_"We are fine Griever. We have an entire detachment of SeeDs to guard us. Squall is alone. Go back and guard him instead."_

_"Very well Mistress."_

The Guardian's presence faded, and Rinoa sank deeper into the state of greyness that preceded sleep, searching. She followed the thread of the bond, which felt stronger each time she touched it, to Squall's mind.

He was awake. She did not intrude, did not initiate contact with him, instead content to simply feel his presence. She could feel his surface emotions, and from them got a sense of his well-being, which wasn't great.

In fact he was sick and in pain, and Rinoa's heart ached at her inability to help.

She wished she knew where he was so she could tell Nida. He'd have the Ragnarok out there to get him in a heartbeat. She had the sense that he was traveling though, as uncomfortable for him as it was. Perhaps she could check in with him later. Maybe he'd have a location by then, or some kind of landmark he could give her to let her know where he was.

She drifted off to sleep and dreams, her body's need for rest overriding her active mind, still lightly connected to him.

It was as close as she could come to actually having him there with her; feeling his warmth, the rasp of his breath as he slept ...

she wished she could simply reach out and touch him, snuggle close to his back and wrap her arms around him but she couldn't.

Not yet, at any rate.

She hoped she could speak with him later that evening if he didn't manage to arrive by then. Perhaps he would be more able to connect when he was in a more relaxed state.

* * *

"Is this where you found them?" Reive asked Irvine.

"Yep," the sniper answered. "I dunno what it is, but if it's still alive and lurking around out here somewhere, I don't want to run into it, especially not at night."

Reive squatted down next to the traces and examined them closely. "And you couldn't really track it right then because Rinoa was there with her daughter, right?"

"Yeah. I thought we'd take a look-see while they're resting. Maybe we'll luck out and find the thing's poisoned itself after all."

"Maybe," Reive said, straightening up. Glancing over at Irvine, he asked, "You have an idea for a direction? I'm not much of a tracker in the wildlands."

"I do." Peering down at the scuffed and stained dirt, Irvine indicated some indistinct marks. "It went off this way, toward the trees."

Reive couldn't tell really, and Irvine even admitted the dirt was too loose and dry to hold a good print of whatever it was, but they carefully scanned the ground, slowly following the virtually invisible traces left behind by the monster. A bruised leaf here, a crushed flower there, a drop of something, possibly blood, more scuffs and broken stems.

The afternoon grew hotter, and Reive was immensely relieved when their search took them into the forest. Knowing Irvine to be the better tracker, he concentrated on watching the older SeeD's back so as to allow him to focus on what he was doing. To that end, he had his rifle locked and loaded, and switched to full auto, just to be safe. He knew it wouldn't do to be caught napping while tracking a creature that at the very least, _had_ to be sick from eating a Marlboro. Sick or wounded monsters were _extremely_ dangerous.

Irvine doggedly followed the creature's trail, and the traces appeared to become easier to see, the farther they went. Perhaps the thing _was_ dying after all. They began to see more broken vegetation as the underbrush grew thicker; by that they could guess at the monster's size, and it was disconcertingly large.

Irvine paused and plucked a tuft of what appeared to be fur from a nearby shrub and examined it closely, taking out what looked like a bit of lint from his pocket and comparing them side-by-side. They matched.

"Same as the fur I picked up by the camp," Irvine said, when he noticed Reive's puzzled look. "Same critter."

"Any ideas of what it is?" Reive asked.

"Some," Irvine answered, rubbing the soft fur between his thumb and forefinger, then bending down to scan the ground again.

They were near a small creek, and the moisture in the air was a welcome break from the searing heat on the open plains. The ground in the forest was softer, and held prints better.

Finally, they had a clear set of prints to follow, but they were still hard to decipher. There were what looked like clawed pawprints, _large_ ones, along with strange marks like someone had been dragging a stick and poking it into the ground at odd intervals. For the life of him, Reive couldn't figure out what could have left such traces behind.

"Well, I haven't got a clue," Reive said.

"It's because you've never seen one," Irvine said absently, following the tracks to the edge of the creek where they stopped.

"Seen what?"

Irvine was pacing carefully down the stream, frowning as he scanned the ground. Then he raised his head and studied the opposite bank intently.

Finally he answered, "A death claw."

Reive stared at him. "A … _death claw_? But it _killed_ and _ate_ a marlboro! How...?"

"They're highly resistant to biotoxins. They have their own," Irvine answered.

Reive swallowed. "How big are they?" Everyone he'd spoken to had told him how dangerous and difficult to kill marlboros were. Few who tangled with them survived, and even _Squall_ was afraid of them. He'd heard _nothing_ about death claws.

"Well, _this_ one's big enough to kill and eat a marlboro." Irvine said. "And it looks like it's given us the slip. The trail ends at the water, so either it went up or downstream or …" he shrugged. "The other side of the stream is mostly rock."

"You want to head upstream while I go down?" Reive asked.

"You know what to look for?" Irvine asked, gazing steadily at him.

"Yeah, I think so. If I see anything I'll holler." Reive answered.

"All right then."

They parted, with Irvine pacing downstream, scanning the ground and his surroundings carefully.

Reive turned and headed upstream, looking for anything that resembled the tracks he'd seen Irvine follow. He had no idea how far they were supposed to go, and he didn't want to wander _too_ far. He worried about leaving Rinoa and the kids back at the camp. They were his primary responsibility, and he was conflicted about leaving them, despite the fact that they weren't actually _alone_. On the one hand, Squall had charged him to protect his family, and hunting a creature that threatened their safety certainly fit within that parameter. On the other, he was definitely too far away from them if anything untoward should happen while he was out on what he _hoped_ wouldn't end up a goose chase.

He did his best to focus on the same tiny details he'd seen Irvine examining: a rock that had obviously turned over, a leaf bruised, a branch broken, even when tracks weren't always visible, those signs could often lead to more concrete evidence of the creature's passage. Trouble was, he wasn't seeing _anything_. He'd been paying attention to Irvine's tracking as closely as he could while guarding his back, and got an idea at least of how to track the thing. If it had left _any_ traces behind at all, he couldn't see them.

Reive traveled upstream as far as he dared, then splashed across the creek to the other side, scanning the ground intensely as he did, looking for anything that might point toward the monster's trail.

At length, he reached his and Irvine's departure point and continued downstream on its opposite side.

Irvine had apparently come to the same decision and they met up not far from where they'd separated.

"Did you see anything?" Irvine asked him.

Reive shook his head. "No. If it came up this way, I didn't see any traces of it."

"Same here. I scanned both banks of the creek and got nothing. Trail's gone cold," Irvine said. He frowned, gazing around before returning his attention to Reive. "I'll report it to Sarcen, suggest double guards and higher-level defensive spells, just in case," he said.

"Right," Reive nodded.

They crossed the creek and made their way back to camp. Irvine went in search of Sarcen while Reive detoured to Rinoa's tent to check on her and Misty. The twins were safely confined in the mess tent for the moment, performing their duties with as much good grace as they could muster. Which wasn't a whole lot, though they _did_ grudgingly admit to their errors in judgment which had put them there.

As the day wound toward evening, a report from the Ragnarok, this time flown by Zell, turned up no sign of Squall yet. Rinoa then said she'd communicate with Squall that evening and try to get some co-ordinates from him.

Reive hoped she could get that information. Even a hint of the route he might be taking to get there would help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter done, and THIS one has a little bit more of the Leonhart twins in it. I didn't explore their characters too much in previous chapters because...well... they weren't telling me much about themselves, if that makes any sense. They'd pretty much stayed in the background until I finally got a sense of their personalities, THEN they decided to talk. There will be a bit more involving the twins later on, and yeah, a reunion. eventually. This took a good long time to get out, mainly due to the fact that I'd decided to engage a Beta. So everyone, meet Karla, who's going to be my Beta for this story (and others, if she's got time) it is with her help that I finally got this posted and ready for you all to enjoy. On to the next chapter, from Squall's point of view...


	9. Rescue and Reunion?

It was fatigue that had finally forced Maiere to ask to stop. She didn't want to, but it was growing darker by the minute, and monsters or no, they were going to have to find a place to camp for the night. Squall's suggestion to take cover in the forest they'd come upon, offered a better alternative to sleeping exposed in the open desert. Plus, according to him, trees generally meant water.

_Finding_ it however, _that_ was the trick.

Maiere slowed her truck to a crawl; they weren't on anything that even remotely resembled a road, and the last thing she wanted to do was to perforate an oil pan or pop a tire. Of course, that was the risk from the start, but she didn't feel like tempting fate any more than she had to.

She glanced over at Squall, who was watching and at times directing, her progress through the thickening forest.

"This is good. Stop here."

Maiere did as directed, frowning at their surroundings, then turning to check on Teren. He was peering out through the windows, eager and interested in getting out to explore their surroundings.

Squall appeared more cautious, and was slower to move. A grimace, quickly suppressed, gave away his discomfort, and Maiere realized his deliberate movements were more due to pain than caution.

She reached out and gripped his shoulder gently, saying, "Hey. Teren and I can set up camp, so don't over do things, okay?"

Squall glanced back at her, and said wryly, "That obvious, huh?"

"Yes. Pretty hard to pretend if you're really hurting, and it looks like you are." Maiere smiled slightly, "it's about time for another dose of the pain meds anyway."

Squall gazed at her for a moment, then quirked his lips and nodded slightly.

"Here," she dug into her medkit and brought out the pills, handing them to him along with a bottle of water.

"Thanks," he said, taking the pills without complaint.

Taking a deep breath, he exited the truck. Carefully. He hobbled a few steps off, scanning the area the best he could, doing his best to ignore the periodic attacks of dizziness and nausea that came and went. In the uncertain light of early evening, it would be difficult to actually locate any water that might exist, and _digging_ for it...well that was beyond him at the moment.

But the cover offered by the trees was mainly what he was after. With his guardians shielding them, they should be left alone for the night. More or less.

Fishing his compass out, he took a reading on their coordinates, intending to provide those to Rinoa. When he took down the information, he compared it against the coordinates of the Cape of Good Hope and was surprised at how much ground they'd covered. They were closer than he'd thought. With any luck, the Ragnarok would be there in the morning to pick them all up.

_"Rinoa,"_ he sent. _"I have the coordinates for our current location. We've stopped in a forest for the night. The guardians should shield us from any monsters here."_

He then provided her the exact coordinates of their current location, adding mental images of what he saw. The relief and joy he felt from her at his contact, and the infomation he sent her, warmed him.

_"Thank you. I'll let Nida know. You guys just stay put there and we'll come and get you."_ Her mental tone changed to one of concern, and she added, _"Now, get some rest. I know how hard this trip has been on you. Please don't push yourself further. I'll heal you when we see you tomorrow."_

_"I will. I love you."_ he sent, letting her feel how keenly he missed her.

_"I love you too,"_ she responded.

Squall sighed, closing his eyes as her love washed over him. Soon. They would be together soon. He knew it, deep in his bones. He had only to survive the night.

It was with that thought in mind that he surveyed their potential campground carefully, finding a fresh source of water in the form of a hidden spring. He directed the layout of their camp as well, despite being very firmly told to butt out when he attempted to do more than simply tell them where to pitch the tents and dig the firepit.

He would _not_ however, allow Teran or Maiere to go into the woods alone for wood for the campfire. He didn't care how physcally limited he was, he still had his Guardians, so could still offer them protection. Far more than they thought.

Of course, Maiere could, and _did_ , argue that point.

"Okay, you need to stop," she said firmly. "I know you're a SeeD and this is part of what you do, but you need to stop gimping around the camp and _sit down_!"

Squall grit his teeth at this, saying "You're too far from the truck. If we have to make a quick escape..."

"That's not what I'm talking about!" Maiere said in exasperation. "You need rest! You are exhuasted, you are only half-healed from your injuries and you never ate your dinner! Now _Sit_. _Down_."

Squall glared at her, and she glared back, eyebrow raised.

"Fine." he growled, capitulating with ill grace. He was in fact, very hungry but his stomach was so knotted up with anxiety about who was going to keep watch, what to instruct them both in case of an emergency, and what he _could_ do versus what he _wanted_ to do, that he was unable to. It didn't help his mood to realize that Maiere had echoed Rinoa's directive almost verbatim.

In truth, there was very little that he could actually do in a _real_ emergency beyond summoning one of his Guardians. As far as setting a watch...he glanced at both Maiere and Teran and sighed. No. That wasn't possible either. He frowned, staring sightlessly down at the plate of food that Maiere had given him, pondering that particular dilemma.

_"Master,"_ Shiva's voice chimed. _"You must eat. It will help you grow stronger."_

_I know that Shiva._ Squall responded, huffing through his nose in exasperation. _Please watch, and alert me if anything approaches._

_"Very well, Master. I will do as you wish."_ She replied.

_"I will guard as well."_ Griever said. Squall had tried to send the Guardian to Rinoa earlier, and it had returned, telling him that she'd bade it to guard him instead.

_Good,_ Squall sent, feeling a little less useless. As his anxiety eased a biit, he started to pay more attention to his meal, finally beginning to eat.

He knew Bahamut was ready to act, should the occasion arise, without having to ask. Perhaps a bit heavy-handed, to call out a Guardian to take care of what might be more easily dealt with via gunblade, but that wasn't an option for him. Not at the moment, anyway.

* * *

Maiere watched Squall as he settled down, gazing around the campsite with a watchful, yet distracted air. He paused, staring into the darkness behind her and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. She almost turned around to look, to see if something was in fact behind her, but his expression was calm, not alarmed. Still, she had the sudden sense that something _was_ in fact lurking in the darkness beyond the light of their campfire.

Whatever it was she hoped it was friend, rather than foe. Squall's lack of alarm argued for the latter, and raised the question of how he even knew what was out there, if anything at all. Perhaps he was simply lost in thought and she was letting his anxiety from earlier infect her. Perhaps.

She glanced at Teran, who had sat down next to Squall and was gazing raptly into their campfire while he ate. She found herself doing the same thing as she finished her own dinner, her mind on the day's events and weighted down by fatigue.

It had been an exhausting day, no less for her than for Squall and Teran. Upon consulting with him and his map earlier, she'd been surprised at how far they'd managed to get before night had closed in on them. Another day's travel, with luck, and they'd arrive at their destination...but Squall had told her that they would instead stay put.

At first she'd questioned his logic, until he reminded her of the airship that had overflown them. He appeared confident that they would be found in the morning. She hoped so, more for his sake than for hers. The journey had been hard on them all but he'd suffered the most by far.

Golden firelight threw stark shadows into the planes and angles of his face, bringing to stark relief the lines of pain and fatigue that his expression had settled into.

"You really should go to bed now." Maiere told him softly.

He nodded, "I will in a bit."

"Will your Guardians really watch over us?" Teran asked. Squall had assured him of that when the boy had expressed concern over keeping watch during the night.

Squall nodded, directing his attention to the darkness again, answering, "Yes. One is guarding us now."

Maiere hunched her shoulders, the feeling of being watched intensifying and sending a shiver down her spine. Squall had directed his attention to the same spot, just over her right shoulder, that he'd been gazing at previously.

"Where?" Teran asked, looking about eagerly.

Squall stared intensely at that spot for a long moment, and Maiere snuck a look over her shoulder and saw...nothing. Frowning, she returned her attention to Squall, wondering if he was playing with Teran.

Then Teran's eyes widened and he gasped, and at the same time Maiere heard a whuffing breath, then the soft rumble of something very large behind her. Maiere turned to look and got a brief impression of glowing blue eyes and large teeth before she yipped in surprise and bolted to the other side of the camp... _behind_ Squall...who had suddenly collapsed into helpless laughter.

_"What?"_ Maiere gasped, staring wildly at the thing and wondering why Squall was laughing so hard.

"I'm sorry," Squall said with difficulty as he brought himself under control. "But the _look_ on your face..."

Maiere was suddenly possessed with the urge to smack Squall upside the head with a nearby tree branch. She fought it down with difficulty, knowing how little that would improve his current condition.

"Wow." Teran whispered in awe as the creature padded into the circle of light left by their campfire.

"Griever." Squall said by way of explanation, and introduction.

The Guardian nodded gravely at them, further amazing Maiere. No, this wasn't a mere monster, the _sentience_ in its eyes was proof of it. That said, the beast was easily the size of her truck, if not larger, furred in deep purple and scarlet, with a mane of silvery white. Then there were the wings; crimson and white, tucked against the creature's sides. It was magnificent, powerful and dangerous-looking, and indeed resembled nothing so much as a very large, winged lion.

"Th-that...that just came outta... _nowhere_." Maiere sputtered, eyes wide as she stared at the guardian.

Squall chuckled slightly, "he does that. I think he enjoys it."

"What do you mean?" Teran asked, fascinated by the creature, which had decided to lie down next to the fire and, just like an extremely large cat, started to lick it's forepaws. Closing its eyes in feline bliss, Griever spread its toes wide, showing blood-red, razor sharp claws, and began licking between the toes.

"Griever's not like the other Guardians, as I guess you've gathered. He's more like an avatar, or maybe a totem, for my family. He comes and goes as he pleases, and has a tendency to pop up unexpectedly. But he's always there when either I or anyone else in my family needs him." Squall explained.

Maiere couldn't take her eyes off the claws. They looked like sharpened hooks that had been dipped in blood. Meat hooks. She shuddered involuntarily at the sudden image that surfaced in her mind. She knew what a torama or chimera could do with their claws. Griever was several times the size of even the largest of those creatures. Then the beast yawned and the blood-red claws were eclipsed by the huge fangs that the GF displayed.

Despite the dangers that inhabited the wilds of Centra, Maiere _did_ feel a bit safer with such a fearsome guardian as Griever on their side.

"You guys ready to turn in?" Squall asked.

"Yeah," Maiere said. She could feel fatigue weighing her down. Squall had to be feeling even worse, though he'd managed dinner well enough.

"I know you've got to be feeling the battering you suffered today," she said, then asked, "those meds kicking in yet?"

"Yeah. Mostly." he answered. Then he stood with a grimace and hobbled toward his tent, pausing briefly to scratch Griever behind the ears. A loud rumbling resulted and it took Maiere a moment to realize that the massive beast was actually _purring_. She found that oddly endearing and smiled slightly at the thought that fearsome beast or no, Griever was still very much a cat.

Then the GF's glowing blue eyes met hers and she froze, heart thudding in her chest. She had an uncomfortable feeling that the creature was sizing her up to see if she'd be good to eat.

_Nope,_ she thought at it. _I'm not edible. I'm tough, and stringy, and kinda fatty. Not good for you at all_.

Griever pricked up his ears and snorted. Maiere stared at him, frowning. Griever stared back with an expression that looked suspiciously like amusement on his face.

Slowly, she said, "I'm not your type."

Griever snorted again, and shook his head, rumbling with something that sounded suspicously like laughter.

"Good to know." she said, getting up to seek her own bed, leaving the guardian alone by the fire."Good night, Griever."

The guardian nodded gravely at her acknowledgement, and she continued to her tent. Unlike Squall, she did _not_ reach out to scratch his ears like one would a housecat. She had the feeling that it was a privilege granted to only a select few.

She couldn't shake the sense of unreality at the thought of the lone, and highly unusual, sentry that would be protecting them at Squall's behest. However surreal it seemed, she _did_ feel safer.

* * *

He should be sleeping. He was exhausted, and aching in spite of the medication administered by Maiere. But he lay wakeful in his tent, unable to give in to the lure of sleep.

He hated his weakness, hated the fact that his body had to heal at its normal rate instead of taking a healing potion and being fine in a few moments. He'd never liked feeling helpless, vulnerable. Even as a young boy. That was the whole reason he'd been driven to become a SeeD. To become strong enough to protect those he loved.

_He_ was the protector. The knight. Not some useless baggage that was more of a liability than an asset.

_"If you do not sleep, you will not heal."_ Griever said, in an effort to get Squall to quit wallowing and settle down. At least that was the sense Squall got from his guardian.

Squall sighed, closing his eyes and trying to will himself to relax. He concentrated on his breathing, drawing air in slowly, and letting it out the same way, visualizing his anxieties and tensions going with it. Griever was right; his connection to Rinoa's mind was stronger when he was relaxed and asleep.

It _was_ getting easier though, and he took heart from that. That link, that _bond_ , at first so tenuous that he barely felt it and had thought it just a strange sort of dream, had gradually become stronger. It was easier for him to reach out to her and touch her mind and heart than it had been before. It helped, when he missed her the most. It wasn't the same as holding her in his arms however. He needed physical contact with her. He knew she felt the same, and vaguely recalled something about it strengthening their bond, not only as man and wife, but as Sorceress and Knight.

_Fire and ice. Sorceress and knight. Darkness and light. Angel and Demon. Man and woman. Husband and wife._ Not for the first time, he reflected upon that. The give and take, yin and yang of his relationshp with Rinoa, how they balanced each other. Sometimes that balance got knocked off kilter by one thing or another, that was life; but they always found a way to right it, and find that happy medium once again.

It was all about balance. He supposed that was the main reason for the knight's bond with his sorceress. The knight was the anchor, a steady, stabilizing force to keep the sorceress grounded. To keep her from losing herself to the power that she contained. That give and take, that sharing of energy, was what kept her sane...kept them _both_ sane.

As always, thinking of her, longing for her, made him reach for her through the bond...and there she was. The ache of missing her was sharpened by the anticipation of seeing her soon and he nearly wept at the emotion that closed his throat and strangled him.

_Gods Rin, I miss you so much._

_Me too, Squall. I've told Nida. He said he'd either fly the Ragnarok himself to come get you or send someone if he can't get away. Either way, look for it tomorrow._

_I will._

He knew she could sense how he longed to hold her, feel the warmth of her skin, breathe in the scent of her hair, taste the flavor of her lips. He felt that same longing from her.

_Soon. We'll be together soon._ She reassured him.

Comforted by her soothing spirit, Squall finally drifted away to sleep, held safely in her heart and mind. She'd always been his refuge; he remembered that. On those occasions when he'd had to be away from home, she was always there for him, like this, connected through their bond.

_"MASTER! WAKE!"_

Griever's warning snatched Squall from a sound sleep and he jerked upright, heart pounding.

_"What is it?"_ He sent, struggling out of his sleeping bag and out of the tent. He made a grab for his gunblade and grimaced at the resulting twinges of pain in his ribs. He left it lying by his sleeping bag instead. It wouldn't help him and would likely hinder him. He grabbed a sidearm that Maiere had given him instead, making sure the clip was loaded and a spare was to hand.

_"Monsters approach. And the youngling has left his tent."_

_"Where is he?"_ Squall asked, quickly putting his boot and the damned splint-thing on, then hop-limping in the direction that Griever sent him once he'd worked free of his tent.

The embers of the campfire had burned down to glowing coals, but they provided light enough that Squall didn't trip over anything. The boy must have gotten up to take a piss, and Griever silently confirmed it.

Squall scanned the horizon, which showed the first bright stains of dawn at its edges. He must have slept longer than he'd thought.

_"What's coming Griever?"_ Squall silently asked, following the GF's directions to where Teran was.

_"Deathclaw. And...I do not yet know what else. But it is very large. Call the woman, you will need her help as well."_

Squall nodded. Much as he hated to admit it, he wasn't strong enough to handle this on his own.

"Maiere!" He bellowed as he hobbled past her tent. "Get up and get your weapon! We got trouble coming!"

Muffled cursing followed, and Squall glanced back to see Maiere emerging from her tent, rifle ready, with impressive speed.

"Teran?" She called, then asked Squall, "Where's Teran?"

"This way!" Squall said, pointing off into the dark, "Griever's guarding him."

He increased his speed, gritting his teeth against the pain that shot through his leg at each step.

_"Here."_ Griever said.

Squall halted and called out for the young boy, "Teran!"

"Squall?" Teran asked, as he emerged from the brush, sounding puzzled. "What's going on? I had to pee..."

"Teran," Squall ordered firmly. "Get to your mother, and both of you, stay behind me. Are you armed?"

"Yeah, I took my rifle with me, 'cause you said it was safer to have it and not need it..." Teran said.

"Good. We've got trouble coming. Look sharp." Squall said.

"Back to back then. If you don't know what direction it's coming from." Maiere said. "You're not taking the brunt of this. I don't care how tough you think you are, Squall."

Squall glanced back at her and Teran and nodded. "Very well. Back to back. Be ready for anything."

"Did Griever alert you?" Teran asked.

"Yes. He's here now." Squall answered.

"Where? I..." a growl silenced him and the guardian appeared, a giant black blot with burning violet eyes.

_"I am here!"_ He declared, roaring his defiance loudly.

Squall felt a tremor run through Maiere's body where it pressed against his back. A different tremor, this one of excitement, thrummed through Teran's body.

"Lock and load." Squall said calmly, cocking the pistol he held in both hands and aiming it blindly into the dark. Quiet clicks came from Teran and Maiere's directions as they readied their own weapons.

They waited, eyes straining to penetrate the dark, thudding heartbeats marking each passing moment, as the darkness faded to gray and things gradually became more distinct.

They still weren't ready when the attack came.

* * *

A harsh shriek ripped through the suddenly silent forest, as a thing out of nightmares charged at them, crashing through the brush like a juggernaut. It was hard to make out much in the uncertain light; everything under the cover of the trees was still painted in tones of grey, charcoal, black and indigo. The sky had brightened to a light gunmetal fading to lavender and pearl, but the light was too weak still to help them. They were fighting the monster blind.

Despite this, they all aimed in the direction of the oncoming attack and opened fire. Another snarling shriek confirmed that at least one of those shots had hit. Then Griever charged from the side, flinging itself onto the deathclaw and savaging it before leaping back and into the air with a powerful downsweep of his wings.

The creature, wounded, struggled to right itself and retaliate. It flailed its four auxiliary limbs, slicing the air with the razor-sharp claws that were at the end of each limb, tearing up the ground in great gouges as it began to regain its footing.

"Shockwave pulsar Griever! Don't let it get up!" Squall shouted. Then he looked back at Maeiere and Teran and ordered, "Close your eyes and cover your face! Don't open them for _anything_!"

Following his own directive, Squall squeezed his eyes shut tightly and tucked his face into the crook of his elbow to shield it. Moments later, there was a brilliant flash that glowed red through his closed lids, and a searing wash of heat that stopped just before consuming them.

Another roar jerked Squall's head up and he blinked spots from his eyes to focus on what was coming next. It was just suddenly _there_ with a snarling hiss, hot spittle dripping from it's toothy jaws. All three sets. The tri-face flung its central head up and roared challenge again, and Squall's blood turned to ice.

"Shit," He whispered. Griever's attack had depleted his energy and he'd retreated to recharge. He'd have to call Bahamut to deal with this.

"Maiere! Teran! RUN! Get to cover!" He roared as he saw the monster's chest appear to swell in preparation of its attack. _He_ couldn't run or hide; his still healing leg saw to that. Instead, he fired six shots directly at the thing's _true_ face, making it howl with pain and focus its attack on _him_.

He immediately summoned Bahamut. With any luck, the GF would absorb the bulk of the monster's attack. The clouds began to boil in the dawn sky as the dragon answered his summons.

If he'd been anywhere close to his normal level of strength, it might have worked. The monster bellowed; and Squall was briefly relieved that it hadn't spat acid at him...yet. But it was a very brief flicker of relief; the beast charged and there was no way Squall could dodge its attack in time.

He tried, diving to the side, and rolling to his feet..or rather scrambling awkwardly upright and nearly being slashed by the tri-face's claws before he managed to duck behind a tree to avoid its charge. He held onto it for support briefly, panting heavily, hand pressed against his aching side. A series of shotgun blasts from the direction Maiere had run with Teran resulted in howls of pain from the monster. It whirled with a snarl, attention focused onto its new assailants.

"Bahamut! Little help here!" Squall yelled pushing off from the tree. Gritting his teeth against the searing pain that shot up his leg and spiked through his ribs, he ran with as much speed as he could manage, snapping off more shots at the thing as he did, enticing it to chase him instead. He needed more open ground for Bahamut to be able to attack effectively; and he needed more distance between himself and Maiere and Teran.

_"I am coming master!"_ A rumble from the sky followed Bahamut's reply.

Squall didn't get far before the monster caught him. Unwilling to be dragged down like a fleeing deer, he whirled to face his fate.

Three sets of snapping jaws came at him, but it was the clawed forepaw that connected solidly with his side in a blow that sent him flying. Hot fire bloomed along his side; his ribs had likely been rebroken. Fighting pain while trying to stave off the darkness that had started creeping in at the edges of his vision, Squall struggled to his knees, then lurched to his feet.

The good thing about the monster's attack was that he'd been thrown a far enough distance from it that he had time to order his guardian to attack.

"Bahamut! Mega flare! NOW!"He yelled. He stood firm, stretched to his fullest height, and pointed toward the tri-face, which had resumed its charge at him. A challenging roar from above answered his order, and three balls of flaming plasma burned the tri-face to ash in moments.

Squall tried to feel satisfied at having defeated yet another dumb beast bent on killing him, but instead he felt dizzy and weak. The creeping darkness threatened to blind him, despite the brightening dawn. Suddenly, his legs went out from under him and he fell to his knees, fighting for air. He couldn't breathe. He tried to take a deep breath and instead coughed painfully, hand pressed against his shattered side. He tasted blood, gagged, and spat crimson foam. That was bad. He knew it was.

Voices called to him. Another voice in his mind sobbed his name, over and over. Then the clamoring voices stopped making sense. He couldn't see. He couldn't hear. And he couldn't breathe. The voices faded as the darkness finally smothered him.

* * *

Teran truly had needed to pee, and had thought, with the creature Griever standing guard, he'd be safe. He'd even taken his rifle with him as a precaution. He'd just finished what he'd needed to do when he heard Squall calling his name, then his mother, doing the same. His heart started pounding when Squall had told them of his Guardian's warning.

He'd tried to help. He'd shot the monsters as many times as he had bullets. They didn't work. Not as well as he'd thought they would. Griever, however, _he'd_ done a better job of taking out a creature that Teran never really got a good look at but still found terrifying.

He'd thought that was the end of it when he saw the resulting swath of black and ash-grey that was left where the monster had been. Then the _other_ monster attacked.

"Teran! Get my kit from the truck! Hurry!" his mother ordered him, kneeling next to Squall's _much_ too still form.

Teran did as she asked, hoping it would help. Hoping that Squall would survive this as well.

When he returned to his mother's side and set the kit down next to her, he swallowed hard as he heard the labored wheeze of Squall's breathing. Frothy blood trailed from the corner of his mouth, leaving crimson flecks on blue-tinged lips, and his eyes were closed. Teran knew enough to see he was bad shape. Then he saw his mother working on him and felt better. Maiere was a good medic, she'd pull him through. She had to.

"Teran, I need your help honey," She said calmly.

"What do you need me to do?" he asked her, heart pounding.

"His chest is filling up with blood and is in danger of collapsing his lungs. I need to drain it off, and I need you to hold him down. He might fight. Keep him as still as you can, okay?" she told him.

Teran nodded, starting to feel scared. Taking a deep breath, he moved closer and knelt down next to her and asked, "Okay. Uh, how?" he asked.

Pointing to the other side of Squall's body, she directed him, "kneel down by his head over there and hold his shoulders down. That should help keep him as still as possible."

"All right," Teran said, doing as he was told and leaning his entire weight upon his hands, pressing Squall's shoulders into the ground.

"Good." Maiere said softly, quickly setting to work cutting Squall's shirt open and exposing his chest. Purple-black bruising mottled his skin where it wasn't torn and bleeding from the scratches left behind by the monster's attack. Maiere was almost certain that one of his shattered ribs had punctured the lung on that side. Moving on autopilot, she quickly got the items she needed, placing one of them, an apparatus that looked like a balloon attached to a plastic tube, on Squall's chest.

Teran remained at his post, worrying, and reliving what he'd seen of Squall's battle. It had been almost too dark to see Griever take on the first monster, and the...whatever it was that the GF had done to burn it to ash...he hadn't seen at all due Squall's directive to close his eyes. It had been bright enough, whatever it was, that he'd been afraid it would burn his eyeballs anyway.

Then the three-headed thing had attacked them. Squall had known that if it came down to a fight, he'd be hampered by his disability. But he'd fought the monster regardless, and Teran had watched in mute horror as he and his mother had ducked down behind the truck.

Fleeing as Squall had ordered them to, and suddenly realizing that he wasn't behind them, his mother had nearly gone back to help. She'd taken a hard look at Teran and came back and hugged him close instead, trying to bury his face in her arms so he wouldn't have to see Squall die.

But...he _had_ to see. He couldn't explain it, not even to himself. Something held him transfixed as he watched events play out. Perhaps it was Squall's desperate courage, the way he'd kept the monster focused on _him_ , so that he and his mother would be safe. Perhaps it was the way he got up and faced the beast _again_ , despite being very obviously injured from its first attack...and summoned the dragon.

_That_ image would remain seared into Teran's mind forever, whatever Squall's fate.

Squall had stood resolute and fierce, battered and bleeding, and called out the dragon's name, arm outstretched toward the three-headed nightmare that was charging him. Lightning had webbed across the sky then, snarling through the boiling clouds as the dragon he'd seen all those weeks ago burst into the sky above them, roaring a challenge. The dawning sun had gleamed off scales of steely blue, and flashed off the scarlet undersides of its wide, beating wings as it hovered high above Squall and spat balls of flame at the monster, destroying it utterly.

Then Squall had collapsed.

"Teran? Honey I need you to squeeze this balloon here, okay?" his mother's voice had brought him back to the here and now, and he saw that she'd stuck a tube thing into his chest which was draining a sickening amount of blood from it.

Another tube had been stuck down Squall's throat and the bag thing was on the end of it. He remembered seeing it used before. It would help Squall to breathe. She showed him how, and he did as ordered, watching Squall's chest rise. His mother watched too, checking the drainage tube and taking Squall's hand and holding it while checking his heart rate.

The second time Teran squeezed the bag, slowly, like his mother had shown him, Squall jerked, gripping his mother's hand. His eyes flew open, wide with panic for a moment, before focusing on Maiere.

"Squall! Don't fight it! Relax!" She told him urgently, placing her other hand gently on the center of his chest to hold him still when he shifted. "I think your lung's been punctured. We're just trying to keep your throacic pressure stable so your other lung won't collapse."

Biting her lip, Maiere added, "The... the airship. Maybe they'll see us and..." she faltered and stopped. She didn't want to offer false hope, and the fact was that even if she got him stable, he needed surgery and she was _kilometers_ away from anyplace that was even close to equipped for it.

She was only delaying the inevitable, but despite that, she wouldn't give up on him, not while he was still willing to fight. Maybe he was right and the Ragnarok _would_ find them. He'd seemed positive that it would. If so, then she was determined that he would be alive when it did.

Squall squeezed Maiere's hand and gave her a steady, reassuring look. Maiere nodded, accepting the message that _he_ believed they would be rescued. Then he closed his eyes and went limp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I'm not a medical professional, and I'm not pretending to be one...and I've only had veterinary training. Bout the closest I came to human medical...anything...was dating a paramedic in college. So, any errors I've made with regard to that are my own. Sorry about the cliffhanger (not really..) but the story's not over yet...stay tuned!


	10. Be Still My Love

Rinoa woke with a start, sensing something was wrong. She immediately sought out the bond and traced it to discover that Squall was awake, and agitated.

_"Squall?"_ she sent, getting up and starting to get dressed. What she was sensing from Squall guaranteed that she would _not_ go back to sleep.

He did not answer her, his mind was otherwise occupied...with battle plans. Rinoa's alarm intensified.

_"Squall! Use your Guardians! Don't engage!"_ she knew he wouldn't unless he had to. She also knew that intentions count for nothing in the heat of battle. If he _couldn't_ get away, he would turn and fight with whatever weapons he had available to him.

Even if he was in no way strong enough to prevail.

He wasn't yet able to block her out, not completely; so despite his non-response, Rinoa was aware of what he was thinking and feeling. He was worried and afraid for the boy, Teran, and had gone looking for him.

Her heart thudded heavily in sympathy with his, as he searched the still night-dark woods. She already knew Griever was there, guarding them all, and felt somewhat better. But that edge of disquiet remained, enough so that she finally put her shoes on and left her tent.

Dawn had just stained the eastern horizon when she felt Squall's fear, heard, echoed in his mind, the shriek of an attacking deathclaw. Rinoa gasped and stumbled back against a tree, tears flooding her eyes as she was an unwilling observer in the monster attacks. They weren't fully linked; she could not see through his eyes as she had done in the past, but she could hear his thoughts, sense his fear, his despair, and finally his grim decision to face what was coming even as he held a small hope that Bahamut would absorb enough of the coming attack that it wouldn't kill him...

Then...pain. And silence.

Rinoa collapsed to her knees and screamed.

_"Don't leave me!"_ She cried mentally. _"Squall, PLEASE!"_ She could feel the bond still, but it was weakening. _He_ was weakening.

The camp immediately boiled to life, SeeDs hastily getting dressed and armed, ready to do battle. Rinoa knelt, sobbing, trying to calm herself as the SeeDs and her children, awakened by her cry, converged upon her.

"Rinoa?" Reive was there, holding her face between his hands, peering anxiously into her face. " Are you okay? What's wrong? What's happened?"

Rinoa snuffled and took a deep breath, scrubbing at her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt.

"Squall...he...he was attacked... And I can't hear him." She answered. More tears leaked from her eyes.

"Is he dead?" Reive asked her calmly, handing her a handkerchief. He bit his lip, thinking about the bangle in his pocket. Would he need to use it?

Rinoa wiped her face and blew her nose, automatically searching for the bond...and finding it intact. She closed her eyes and went limp with relief.

Shaking her head, she answered, "No. The bond is...whole, thank Hyne. But...I know he's hurt."

Grabbing Reive's shoulder, she used his support to lever herself upright. Then she rushed to the tent they'd setup as a makeshift clinic/infirmary...just in case. She immediately started getting a trauma kit together.

"Reive, call Nida, tell him to send the Ragnarok now! We need to get to Squall as soon as possible!" she said urgently when Reive caught up to her. He left quickly to do as she'd ordered.

"Mom? What can we do?" Saber asked. Julia and Misty stood next to him, with Misty rubbing at sleepy eyes.

Rinoa bit her lip briefly, then said, "Wake the trauma team and tell them to meet me here. Julia, you get everything ready to go. We're all going to where your father is when the Ragnarok gets here."

Saber hesitated a moment, then asked softly, "How bad is he?"

Tears pricked at Rinoa's eyes again as she answered, "I...I don't know, really. But it's bad enough." Saber nodded and left.

Rinoa sagged, leaning on her hands against a gurney, and shook. _Please,_ she prayed, _please let the Ragnarok get here soon. Please let us get to him in time._

Reive returned moments later to confirm that the Ragnarok was en route, with Zell piloting. It would reach them in a matter of mintues, but those minutes dragged by interminably as Rinoa imagined what might be happening to Squall. Minutes could mean the difference between life and death. A man could bleed to death in minutes. A life could be saved in minutes, if the right treatment was administered. Those minutes were important.

The roar of the airship's engines dragged Rinoa back to the here and now, and she thankfully leaped into action with her team, rushing out to the airship and up the access ramp almost before it was completely lowered. The rest of the SeeDs followed, pounding up the ramp in her wake.

As the Ragnarok winged away into the brightening dawn, Rinoa was busy getting the onboard infirmary ready. Whatever treatment Squall needed, up to and including emergency surgery, was ready to go. They just needed to get to him.

She searched out the bond again, that living tie that linked them, mind and heart, and followed it to his mind. He was in pain, and seemed to be having difficulty breathing. But he was hanging on, and Rinoa sent her love along with what strength she had in her, hoping that he'd hold on until they got there.

* * *

Maiere's heart nearly stopped when Squall went limp under her hands, and she searched frantically for a pulse in the wrist she was holding. When she didn't find one, she laid his hand down gently and checked his neck instead, just under the jaw. There, she found a pulse, but it was weak. She didn't need a pressure cuff to know that his blood pressure was dropping, probably due to blood loss and shock.

Looking up into the sky, she whispered, "Wherever you are guys, please hurry. He won't last much longer." Directing her attention back to her son, she said, "Teran honey, can you keep on squeezing that bag for me for a little bit? I need to get something for Squall."

"Okay mom," the boy said, continuing with his task.

Maiere quickly got to her feet and raced back to her tent, grabbing a blanket and a pillow.

Returning to Squall's side, she placed the pillow under his feet, elevating them slightly, and laid the blanket over him. The night had cooled considerably, and the ground was cold and slightly damp, leaching Squall's warmth away. The sun was still in the process of rising, so it would be hours yet before it had warmed the earth once again.

Taking his hand again, she enfolded his clammy fingers into both of hers, chafing them in an attempt to warm them.

"Hang in there Squall. They'll be here soon." Maire said, hoping that she wasn't lying. "What were you thinking, anyway? Why did you do that?" She knew he couldn't answer, but it didn't matter.

She knew why he'd turned back to fight. It wasn't in his nature to do otherwise. The fact was, as hampered as he was by his injured leg, he hadn't really had much choice either. In a situation that required speed and agility, he had neither; so he chose to meet his fate head on and give her and her son a chance to get out of the danger zone.

"Don't you _dare_ die on me. Not now. Don't make me explain what happened to your wife and children. _Don't_ ," she begged as his pulse skipped and skittered.

He needed fluids; ideally whole blood but plasma or even a saline IV would do in a pinch. She didn't have any whole blood or plasma, obviously. Squall's blood type was exceedingly rare, and blood was very perishable.. But she did have saline. She got to work getting a line into his vein, then got the bag out and attached it, holding it up for a moment to make sure everything was okay with it before laying it gently onto his stomach. It _should_ be elevated, but she had nothing to hang it from. She hoped it would help keep his blood pressure up long enough for the airship and his compatriots to arrive.

Take it on faith, he'd said. But she'd had no assurance beyond his firm certainty that the Ragnarok had even seen them and would be coming back, much less _when_. _He'd_ believed it. In fact, he'd acted as though it was a fact and not just a vague hope. It _was_ a vague hope, to her way of thinking, but one Maiere held onto nevertheless as the moments ticked by.

She fell silent, and the only sounds to be heard then was the faint rustling of leaves in the morning breeze, birds twittering in the treetops, and a quiet whoosh as Teran kept up his task of forcing air into Squall's lungs.

"Mom?" he asked her.

"What, honey?" Maiere responded.

"What if he dies?"

"He may not, you know. He's pretty tough." Maiere said, trying to sound positive.

Teran wasn't having it though, and he persisted, "But what if he does? What do we do then?"

"What do you mean?" Maiere asked him, frowning. What was he getting at?

"We're not... Going to leave him here, are we? If he dies, I mean?" Teran asked, biting his lip.

"What do _you_ think we should do, Teran?" Maiere asked him.

Frowning down at Squall's still form, Teran said, "We shouldn't leave him. I don't think we should bury him here, either. I think we should take him home."

"As it happens, I was planning on doing just that. He's already mapped the route. So, yes. If he dies... _If_...then we will continue to where he was supposed to meet his family and give him back to them. But...I don't think he'll die." Maiere said.

Teran disagreed. Squall's injuries appeared as bad or even worse than the ones he'd suffered when they first found him. And they'd had Dr. Marlow to help. His eyes blurred, but he kept up the rhythm like his mother had taught him.

"Teran," Maiere said. He looked up at her and she said, "he won't die if we don't give up on him."

"How long do we...?"

"As long as we need to." Maiere answered him firmly.

Teran nodded and blinked the tears away from his eyes. His mom had always told him that there was a time and a place for tears, and it was when the crisis was over. Well, they were still in the middle of it. Besides, no use crying until you actually had a reason to...and they didn't have one. _Yet_.

* * *

The Ragnarok screamed through the sky, following the coordinates that Rinoa had provided. Zell, in the pilot's seat, was grimly focused upon reaching that location as quickly as possible. Trying not to think about what was at stake.

In the infirmary, Rinoa was going over her own battle plans, surveying the weapons she had available to fight for Squall's life. Healing potions of various types and potencies to deal with anything from physical trauma, to poison, biological agents, and various types of status effects. The surgeon and nursing staff were ready and waiting, the infirmary prepped, and...just in case, they had a small packet of Phoenix down.

"Rinoa." a voice came from the doorway.

Rinoa turned to see Irvine leaning against it, watching her. "Why don't you sit down and get some rest while you can? You can't do anything right now. Not until we get to him. And everything here's about as ready as it's ever going to be."

"I know." she said. She didn't move.

"Come on." he urged again, beckoning her.

She hesitated, then sighed. He was right, and common sense was right in line with his suggestion. Exhausting herself through anxiety was certainly _not_ going to help either her or Squall. Reluctantly, she left the infirmary. Irvine stopped her as she came through the doorway and pulled her into a hug.

"It'll be okay Rin." he whispered, kissing the top of her head. "You're still here, which means that _he's_ still alive. Hold onto that. You can still feel the bond, right?"

Rinoa nodded, whispering, "yes."

"We'll get there. We'll get him. And we'll do whatever we need to do to save him, whatever his condition. You know we will." He assured her. Releasing her, he nodded toward the passenger compartment and suggested, "Why don't you go spend some time with the kids? They need you."

Rinoa swallowed, stung that she'd had to be reminded. It wasn't just about _her_...there were their children to be considered in this as well. And just because they didn't have the same kind of bond that she shared with their father, didn't mean that they couldn't sense what was going on. They were _all_ sensitives.

Viewed in that light, it made sense that they might need some reassurance that their father was going to be okay. Unfortunately, until Rinoa reached him and got a better sense of how badly injured Squall was, she couldn't do that. And she wouldn't lie to her children. She never had and wasn't about to start now. The only reassurance that she could give them was that they were going to do everything they could to save him.

She smoothed her top down over her rounded belly, its small occupant quiescent for the moment, as she made her way through the labyrinthine corridors of the great airship, headed toward the passenger compartment in the cockpit area.

It reminded her of her first time aboard that ship, with Squall, when they'd had to work together to systematically rid the Ragnarok of its infestation of alien monsters. Still reeling from the surreal nightmare she'd just survived, brought out of the airless dark by Squall's suicidal leap of faith, she'd then had to focus on yet another battle for her life. But it was the first time she'd been alone with Squall, and at that point, had finally gotten a sense of his feelings for her.

How could she not, when he'd done something so incredibly brash, noble and _stupid_ as to leap from the escape pod he was in to join her as she drifted in space? No way would a mercenary risk his life for the sake of his client like that, not just for mere gil.

Still, he'd been awkwardly reluctant when she'd asked him for a hug. At first, she'd been hurt by his lack of response. But after thinking about it a bit, figured that he was still operating in SeeD mode because they were still in an unknown situation and were far from completely _safe_. Then there was the fact that Squall had been completely unused to physical contact of any sort. That hadn't even occurred to her then. Thinking back on what she'd observed of him up to that point, she had realized that he didn't even shake hands, much less _hug_ anyone.

There were other reasons as well, ones that she was made aware of _much_ later on.

In the years since, he'd grown and matured into a man that was a completely different person than the boy he'd been. On the surface perhaps, he might not have changed much; he carried his age very well indeed. It was hard for some people to believe that he was actually older than thirty. But inside? Those changes were the most profound.

The bond that tied them together had grown and matured with them both as well, and Rinoa could say with perfect honesty that she loved him more now than she did when she was still a teenager. They'd faced and survived challenges that would have destroyed a weaker relationship, and weaker people. While she couldn't pretend to have any great strength, physical or otherwise, herself, Squall's example made her _try_.

He'd told her more than once that she made him want to be a better person, in order to feel worthy of her. She felt the same way.

She would _not_ lose him today. Not if _she_ had anything to say about it.

* * *

Sweat dripped off Teran's face and he blotted it on his sleeve. It was hard work, squeezing that plastic balloon thing, and he was getting tired. His mother was doing all she could though, so it remained for him to keep forcing air into Squall's lungs. Or... _lung_ , since his mom thought that the other one might have collapsed. He hoped not.

Time seemed to drag on forever, but that might have been due to the fact that he was acutely aware of every passing second. He had to be. He had to squeeze and release, counting seconds in between, in order to keep the flow of air consistent. The day did seem to be growing brighter though, the pearly luminescence of dawn giving way to the sun.

"How are you holding up, Teran?" Maiere asked him.

"Getting tired," he admitted, still doggedly squeezing the balloon.

"I can take over for a bit, if you want to take a rest." she offered.

He considered it, and was about to answer when he heard something that sounded like distant thunder, rumbling through the sky.

"What's that?" he asked looking up and around.

Maiere frowned, looking around as well, "I don't...no. Oh, no, no, no..." she whispered, focusing her attention back onto Squall. His heart had stopped.

"Don't do this. Not now!" she said, stomach dropping like lead while she immediately grabbed for a syringe and an alcohol wipe. She opened it quickly with her teeth and pulled out the wipe.

"Mom?" Teran asked, swallowing. Her face had gone dead white and she'd immediately started pawing through the kit and pulling out a syringe and other things. Fear began clawing at him, making it hard for him to keep counting and keep squeezing.

"Keep squeezing that bag Teran! Just like I told you! Count, squeeze, release, and count again!" she urged, biting off the plastic cover of the syringe and quickly swabbing Squall's chest. Thank Hyne, he was still thin enough she could clearly see his ribs, so no risk of hitting one and breaking the needle. Aiming carefully, she jabbed it directly into his heart and injected the adrenaline that would hopefully help restart his heart. Then she started chest compressions.

Her entire focus narrowed to the count and the compressions. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. "Squeeze the bag Teran, two times." she waited, counting under her breath, and resumed her compressions.

"Mom?"

"Stay with me Teran. Squeeze the bag honey. We're not going to lose him, do you hear me? We. Are. _Not_!" She said firmly.

"Okay mom." Teran said calmly, his fear shoved aside by his mother's determination. And his own.

They kept working, focused entirely on the life they were trying to save. Completely oblivious to their surroundings. A monster could have snuck up and killed them all and they'd have been unaware of its approach.

"Come on, dammit!" Maiere whispered, continuing her rhythmic compressions.

Distant thunder, changing from a rumble, to a roar, and then a scream, didn't register with them. If they noticed at all that the scream changed tone once again back to a rumbling roar that seemed to envelop _everything_... they were too busy to acknowledge it. Too busy to see the source of the noise come to a rest upon the ground mere meters away, despite the way the sunrise glittered crimson and gold upon it.

_Come on_... There. A flutter. Weak but there. She froze, hardly daring to breathe as the guttering spark, fragile, so, so fragile, caught hold and grew brighter. The pulse under her fingertips grew stronger...

Too busy, too focused, to see the stream of uniformed people come running down the ramp, headed toward them.

...but his heart had resumed beating. Maiere let out a breath and rocked back on her heels, closing her eyes and letting her head tilt back toward the sky in relief.

But _now_ what? What if rescue didn't come? What then?

Maiere lowered her head and opened her eyes to meet the gaze of a beautiful, dark-haired, and obviously pregnant, woman.

"I'm Rinoa Leonhart. We'll take over from here."

* * *

They were gently, ruthlessly efficient, her team. In moments, they'd deftly nudged aside the woman... _Maiere_... Who'd been working on Squall, and had taken over. A low-level cure spell stabilized him, then they moved him into the gurney and whisked him away to the Ragnarok's infirmary, leaving the woman and young boy staring in their wake.

Returning her attention to the woman and the boy, Rinoa said, "Come with me."

She turned to leave expecting them to follow, but they did not. She glanced back, questioning, and the woman asked, "What about...?" she gestured vaguely behind her at the campsite and the truck she'd driven to get there.

"We'll bring it." Rinoa said, turning to follow the invisible tether that was buried deep into her heart back into the airship. She increased her pace, drawn by its compulsion. At length, she heard footsteps behind her. As she walked up the access ramp, she met Reive. A few quiet words to him assured that the woman's vehicle and belongings would be brought on board and secured. Then she continued up the ramp into the ship, and into the arms of her anxious children.

"Mom?" Saber asked, teary-eyed and abandoning all pretense of maturity by burying his face into her bosom as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Julia and Misty did likewise, with the toddler sobbing in fear, while Julia whispered brokenly, "He's gonna be okay, right momma? He's still alive, I know he is."

"Yes, he is. He's going to be okay." Rinoa reassured them, hoping she wasn't lying. He had a better chance now that he was on the Ragnarok and had the resources available to heal him. But things could still go wrong...there were no guarantees, even now. But she'd sensed the brightening spark within him, despite knowing that it had come within a hair of going out completely. She tightened her arms around her children and squeezed her eyes shut tightly.

She took that brief moment, to comfort them, along with herself, before she whispered to them, "We have guests."

Releasing them, she wiped at the dampness under her eyes and took a deep breath, then turned back to the woman and her son, who were watching them solemnly.

Truthfully, even having seen the woman and her boy in Squall's mind, she found it different, meeting them in person. She was rather tall this woman, and slender, but with an air of supple strength, rather than fragility. Long, thick mahogany hair was pulled back into a braid that fell nearly to her waist. Her eyes were slate grey and thickly lashed, her complexion a light golden brown dusted with freckles. The boy had her same lovely grey eyes but his hair was a lighter golden brown.

She was beautiful, and not just for how pleasantly arranged her features were. She had saved Squall's life, and that made her an angel in Rinoa's book.

"I'm sorry," Rinoa began, and Maiere shook her head, dismissing the apology.

"You needed a minute. I understand." holding her hand out, she added, "I'm..."

"Maiere. I know." Rinoa said, taking her hand and pulling her into a warm hug, much to her surprise and consternation. "Thank you." she whispered. "Thank you so much for saving him."

"I..." Maiere tried, but it was a minute before she could think of what to say. "It wasn't just me. My son helped too."

Rinoa released her and knelt down in front of Teran, saying, "You did?" at the boy's nod, she smiled, and put her arms out, inviting him to hug her. After a quick glance to Maiere and her slight nod, he accepted the invitation. She held him gently for a moment, then released him and stood up, with some slight difficulty due to her gravid state.

"Thank you very much, Teran. It doesn't seem adequate, for what you've both done, but that's the best I can do for the moment." Rinoa said, eyes still bright with tears.

Saber, Julia and Misty, who had calmed down from her crying spate after receiving reassurance that her daddy was still alive and being cared for, all joined Rinoa.

Putting an arm around each twin, she continued, "our children. Saber and Julia are the oldest; twins. Misty is our youngest and _this_ ," she indicated her obvious pregnancy, "is our baby son, who's not due yet for another three months or so."

Charmed, and distracted from some small, rather disconcerting details that had not quite escaped her notice, Maiere smiled, "you already know its a boy?"

Rinoa nodded and said, "follow me. There's a waiting area over here..."

"Of course," Maiere said, and trailed along as Rinoa ushered her family into the waiting room near what had to be the infirmary. She was surprised by the number of people who were waiting along with them. Then again, she supposed she shouldn't have been. He was their Commander. Their leader. Loved by them or not, his people would want to know how he fared. And Maiere got the impression that Squall's subordinates cared as deeply for him as his family did.

A vibration and the disconcerting feeling of movement gave Rinoa an odd flutter in her stomach as the Ragnarok took off. She didn't know if they'd go straight back to Balamb or to the campsite they'd set up in Centra. She supposed it depended upon how critical Squall was. The trauma surgeon was a good one, and the Ragnarok was fully equipped so they might simply go back to camp and pick up everyone that was still there.

She rubbed at her abdomen as its occupant had started kicking her, staring anxiously at the door to the infirmary. She could still feel him; he was still alive and fighting. Rinoa sent him all the healing energy and love that she could, wishing that she was by his side and knowing that she'd only be in the way. Her decision, to forego the use of her magic while pregnant; but it was one that relegated her to the waiting room.

She knew the procedure for a critical patient though, having done it herself numerous times. First, a low-level cure spell to stabilize, since Squall was unable to drink a potion. Then, surgery to align the shattered bones, with a slow-acting healing potion to begin the process of knitting them together. Supportive care of course, fluids, whole blood if needed...Rinoa closed her eyes, hoping that they'd brought enough. It didn't make waiting any easier, knowing what was being done to treat Squall. It only made it easier to imagine the things that could go wrong. The fact that she could feel how much pain he was in, did not help. Not at all.

"How far along are you?"

Rinoa directed her attention to the woman, Maiere, who'd asked that question, answering, "almost seven months."

"Have you two decided on a name yet?" Maiere asked.

Rinoa smiled slightly, "Squall wants to name him Tempest. I'm trying to talk him out of it."

Maiere laughed softly, "what do you want to name him?"

"Something _not_ weather related." Rinoa answered wryly.

"I can understand that, particularly if your son ends up feeling he's got to live up to the name, and his father's legacy." Maiere replied.

Glancing over at Saber, Rinoa remarked, "Part of the package, I suppose."

"He spoke of you. Even when he couldn't remember everything...he remembered enough." Maiere said softly.

Rinoa closed her eyes, fighting tears, and wrapped her arms around herself. _He'll be okay. We got to him in time. He'll be fine. Perfectly fine, in no time at all..._

She wanted to be on the other side of that infirmary door, holding his hand, sending him her strength. Letting him know she was there. She wanted to be the first person he saw when he opened his eyes. But, they were still working on him. She had to wait until the doctors were done with him.

Rinoa lost all sense of time, and was only peripherally aware of the others holding vigil with her. Saber and Julia sat on either side of her, pressing in against her, while Misty had crawled into her lap. All of them seeking comfort from her, and returning it to her as well. It made the waiting bearable at least.

* * *

Squall was annoyed. He was drifting in a sea of black, which was _not_ where he wanted to be. Not at all. He wanted to be _home_ , in his wife's arms. His GF's were with him though, and he sensed Rinoa through the bond, worrying, so he was pretty sure he wasn't dying...at least, not anymore. He felt like shit though.

Cool, green-blue energy tingled through him, dancing behind his closed eyes, gradually easing his pain. Someone had cast a cure spell on him. He breathed a sigh of relief, and took another deep breath for good measure, finding his lungs clear and the tight band of pain around his chest virtually gone. They'd gone for slow, steady cures, apparently. He must have been in pretty bad shape.

"Looks like he's coming around." a voice said. It took Squall a moment to place the voice; Dr. Waldgrath. The trauma surgeon.

"Commander?" a woman's voice. "Can you open your eyes now?"

One of Rinoa's assistants? Or perhaps a nurse. Squall opened his eyes with difficulty, focusing on a young, blonde nurse.

"Good," the doctor said. Then he asked, "Do you remember what happened?"

He had to think for a minute, before answering, "Yeah. It was a...tri-face. Couldn't get out of the way fast enough." He sighed and ran his hand over his ribs and winced. They were still tender, but he felt the faint itch of new flesh already forming where he'd been slashed.

"Do you know where you are now?"

Squall looked around, his memory moving sluggishly to supply him with the necessary associations to name his current location. He took note of the metal table with trays of various medical instruments, bags of whole blood, some of which were empty, and used surgical gloves that littered the surface. One of those bags of whole blood was still connected to one of his arms, while the other had a clear saline drip.

"I'm in...the infirmary. On the Ragnarok." he finally answered, realizing as he did that Rinoa was somewhere nearby. Very likely, on the other side of the infirmary door. He wanted to leap to his feet and rush into her arms right that minute.

"You're very lucky we got to you when we did. The woman who was with you saved your life; if she hadn't been there, you wouldn't have made it." the doctor told him.

"Still feel like shit," Squall mumbled, closing his eyes.

"We had to go with gradual, low-level healing spells, along with emergency surgery to repair your shattered ribcage. You were critically injured and your body didn't have enough energy reserves to withstand more aggressive treatment." Dr. Waldgrath said, adding. "Which means of course you're going to have to stay in bed for a few days to rest."

Squall gave a half-hearted growl at that. He shifted again. His limbs felt heavy, his body weighed down by fatigue. Sleep dragged at him, but he didn't _want_ to sleep. He wanted Rinoa. He could feel her, waiting for him.

"If I have to stay in bed," Squall said, gritting his teeth and struggling to sit upright. "I'm going to do it in my _own_ bed."

"Commander, don't! Don't pull out the... " the nurse cried, trying to stop him as he grabbed the saline IV that was stuck into his arm and pulled it out. Blood leaked from the wound sluggishly, and he grimaced as he removed the other IV as well. He figured he'd gotten as much blood as he'd needed at that point, and the bag was nearly empty anyway.

"Commander Leonhart! You've only just been cured! I strongly urge you to lie back down sir!" the doctor said urgently.

"I'll do it later," Squall growled, grabbing at the bed railing and using it to pull himself upright, cursing while untangling his legs from the bedcoverings, and flinging them over the side of the bed. He nearly fell when he tried to stand upright too fast, and heard loud clangs and clatters as he lurched against the metal table and knocked various instruments to the ground. Cries of dismay followed the cacophony.

He felt the doctor and the nurse on either side of him, trying to gently urge him back into bed, but he wasn't having it. He grabbed the railing of the bed again, and took a deep breath, trying to gather his strength and sort himself out. He was trembling and sweating already from the effort, and really _should_ be in bed but...he was also determined. He glanced down and was relieved to see that they'd left his pants on. He didn't think he could manage to get dressed, and didn't want to embarrass Rinoa by stumbling out after her buck naked. He'd have done it regardless, but it was nice not to have to.

It didn't take long for his head to clear; when it did, he straightened and shook off the nurse and the doctor, swaying but remaining upright. If they'd really wanted to press the issue, they could have easily overpowered him and put him back into bed by force. He was as weak as an infant, and it was all he could do to stand. It was a measure of their respect for him that they let go and let him do what he would...while staying close enough to catch him if he should fall.

He took a step, and then another, leaning heavily against the bed railings, then from there he wobbled and stumbled to the wall and leaned against it for support, breathing heavily.

_"Squall? What are you doing?"_ Rinoa sent, sensing his determination and his effort.

He didn't answer. He was too focused on what he was attempting to do.

"Commander..." the doctor began.

"No." Squall said breathlessly, cutting him off. "I'm getting out of here."

"But, sir! You really should-"

"I. Don't. Care. I'm going _home_!" Squall said firmly, launching himself toward the door.

He staggered and fell heavily against it with a loud thud, then shifted to lean against the doorframe, clinging to it while he hit the touch panel and opened the door.

The look of shock on the faces of everyone there was almost comical, and had Squall not been a hair away from collapsing after all, he would have found it amusing. As it was, he only noticed them in passing; his gaze immediately met Rinoa's, who had risen to her feet when she'd heard the door open. An astonishing array of emotions flickered across her countenance, finally settling on surprise, and then exasperation.

Folding her arms across her chest, she said sternly, "You should be in bed."

A sudden upwelling of joy made him want to weep. He blinked stinging eyes and leaned his head against the doorframe that he still clung to, wanting to laugh at the irony at, having spent so much effort in getting there, he had no strength to go further. His heart however, wasn't listening, and it drove him forward.

"I will be. At _home_. With you." he said, opening his eyes, staggering and wavering dangerously as he pushed off from the door toward Rinoa.

Rinoa's eyes widened in alarm and she hurried toward him, flinging her arms around him and catching him before he fell. He leaned heavily against her, small tremors giving away how much that effort had cost him. But her arms were warm around him, and he wrapped his own arms around her and held her close, burying his face in her hair while joy flooded his eyes and poured down his cheeks.

He pulled back just enough to kiss her deeply, not caring about the rapt audience that was witnessing their reunion. His only focus was the woman in his arms, the round protrusion of their unborn son that pressed against him, the scent of her hair...and the flavor of her kiss.

He was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well then. that's the last chapter. There is an epilogue coming to sort of wrap things up but then that will be it, and this story is officially done...or will be when I post the epilogue. The title of the chapter comes from a song by Bush. Listen to it. It will break your heart.


	11. Epilogue

It had been a completely surreal few days. Maiere sighed with relief as she and Teran finally entered their home. Despite the fact that, due to where they lived, safety was largely an illusion, "home" still meant "safe" to them both.

The SeeDs that had transported them were more than accomodating, embarrassingly so, in fact. The pilot, a blond, muscular man with a startling facial tattoo on his handsome face, gave both her and Teran effusive hugs, thanking them profusely, before escorting them out of the airship. It turned out that he was a close personal friend of Commander Leonhart, and was very happy indeed that his friend had survived. They'd very kindly brought her truck back down the ramp and parked it in front of her house as well.

"Listen, Ms. Maiere, if there's anything you need, anything at all, call us. _Any_ of us." the pilot, who'd introduced himself as Zell, said.

"I will," Maiere had said, feeling a little overwhelmed by it all. "I'm just glad to be home."

"Squall is too. He'd have come and said good bye personally but..." Zell shrugged.

"I know." Maiere smiled. "I'm just glad he's doing better. Still not real clear on _how_ , though."

"You'll have to come visit us in Balamb to find out." Zell said with a shrug, and a wink.

"Can we mom?" Teran asked, looking up at her hopefully.

"Maybe we'll do that," Maiere said, squeezing Teran's hand.

Another SeeD, Reive, who introduced himself as Squall's Personal Assistant stepped up and handed her an envelope, saying, "Rinoa wanted me to give you this, and to tell you 'thanks' as well."

She was floored when she opened the envelope, expecting a letter or note, and indeed there was one...wrapped around an astounding amount of gil.

She scanned the note quickly, then turned to Reive, protesting, "I can't accept this! It's too much!"

He raised his eyebrows, and asked her, "You are a medical professional, aren't you?"

"Well, yes, I'm a nurse practitioner," she answered.

"And you have expended a considerable amount of time and effort, not to mention supplies, in saving Commander Leonhart's life and transporting him to us. We have already reimbursed Dr. Marlow for his fine work, it only remained that we reimburse you as well. The fact is, Mrs. Leonhart found this a completely inadequate recompense for what you've managed to do for all of us, not only for the commander and his family, but she couldn't think of anything else that would be acceptable. Or as useful. And this would at least replace the supplies that you used on his behalf. Please take it." The young SeeD said ernestly.

Maire had nodded slowly, stunned.

She looked at the stack of gil notes again. It was enough to replace all of her supplies, and then some. SeeDs, she'd learned, had a strong sense of honor about them, when it came to their own.

She wandered into the kitchen, intending to start dinner, Teran trailing listlessly behind her. He felt it too, how quiet, empty and _dead_ , the place felt. Even injured and weak, Squall had a certain vitality to him that was palpable. He made his presence felt.

Her husband had been like that too, which was why she felt that emptiness so keenly now.

"Will we ever see him again?" Teran asked plaintively.

_Would_ they? Well, if it was merely a matter of funds, that was no longer an issue. The payment she'd recieved was several times what she earned normally. It nearly doubled what a professional nurse practicioner earned in Deling City. For an entire year. Of course, _getting_ there from their remote outpost wasn't going to be all that easy.

Maiere thought about how they'd even manage it, shying away from actually _calling_ them. It seemed frivolous to request a pick up by the SeeDs for just a social visit.

"We will, though it'll be awhile before we can get to Balamb. It's a long way from here," Maiere said.

It actually took them three months.

Life had gone on, as it usually did, and Maiere had been kept busy helping Dr. Marlow care for their little community. But, an opportunity had arisen, as had the need for certain supplies that were not easily available through their usual channels, and Maiere had volunteered to go in the doctor's place to get them.

It had been a challenging trip, getting from Centra to Galbadia, involving a week-long sea voyage on top of the trek to the coast to meet the boat. All told, it had taken three weeks of travel to get there. Fortunately, _this_ journey wasn't nearly as eventful as the last one she'd attempted, and they finally arrived safely in Balamb via train.

In the months since they'd been returned home, Teran had devoured everything he could about Balamb Garden and SeeD...and their commander, Squall Leonhart. As they'd drawn closer to Balamb, the boy's excitement had increased. Maiere had to smile at that; at least this adventure was a fun one.

Maiere had called ahead, informing the woman who'd answered, Quistis, of her impending visit. A SeeD cadet was waiting for them at the entrance, next to the guard station, when they got there.

Teran was full of questions and snippets of information about Garden and its commander, and he chatted animatedly with the cadet, who couldn't have been older than twelve or thirteen (and in fact, looked vaguely familiar). The boy appeared to be very knowledgable about Teran's favorite subject too, which Maiere thought was a nice touch.

Maiere herself was simply in awe of the place. It was huge, airy and graceful, and had an air of peace and serenity at odds with its stated purpose of training elite warriors.

As she followed the boy through the place, she wondered how Squall and his family were doing. Rinoa would probably have had their baby by now. She hoped all had turned out okay for them and that both Rinoa and the baby were healthy...and that Rinoa had managed to give him a name she liked.

She couldn't help thinking back to the day that they had been rescued. Fear and despair had eaten at the edges of her determination to keep Squall's heart beating, and she'd wanted to weep with relief when the trauma team had taken over. She fully expected that he'd be in surgery and incapaciated for a long time, so was completely astounded when he'd stumbled out of the infirmary just hours later. Torn flesh had been mended and already showed scar tissue, bruises already faded. Healing that _should_ have taken weeks, accomplished in mere hours.

He'd been barely able to stand, but she saw firsthand his stubborn tenacity, which she'd learned later, was the stuff of legends. She wouldn't have believed it if she had not been there to bear witness to it. He had been essentially dead, mere hours ago, and then he was standing and...well, if not _walking_ , then coming very close to it.

She had found it odd that despite the fact that he looked perilously close to collapse, and despite the intense attention his arrival had garnered from those who'd gathered there to keep vigil for him, no one stepped in to try and help. Not until she saw how closely they were watching him, yet allowing him to try on his own...such was his pride and their respect for it.

Then he stumbled into his wife's arms and wept into her neck, and Maiere's heart shattered into a million pieces. It was through a blur of tears that she saw him slowly sink to his knees and rest his head against Rinoa's pregnant belly, visibly trembling. Either physically or emotionally at the end of his strength. Indeed, he hadn't protested when she'd gently urged him into a wheelchair and wheeled him off somewhere, presumably to a bed.

"Wait here a moment," the cadet said, dragging Maiere back to the present.

They'd stopped at a door in what appeared to be a residential portion of the academy. The boy opened it and stepped inside briefly, then ushered them into a fairly neat, if lived-in, living room. Maiere smiled to herself as she saw evidence of a small child in the home. _Children_ , she thought, catching sight of a bottle in a dish rack.

It took her a minute...and a glimpse at a family photograph...to finally realize why the cadet seemed so familiar to her, and why he'd brought her and Teran there. She'd only met him once, briefly, three months ago, when she and Teran had been rescued along with Squall.

"they'll be right out." The cadet said upon his return.

Maiere smiled, "Saber, is it?" at the boy's nod, she said, "I almost didn't recognize you. I didn't expect you to bring me to your home. I hope this isn't a bad time."

"Its okay. They wanted me to." Saber replied with a shrug.

"Is everything going well?" Maiere asked.

"It's going _very_ well, thank you." a deeper voice said softly.

Maiere turned and couldn't help smiling at what she saw. Squall stood barefoot in faded jeans, with a plain white tee-shirt on; he'd obviously dressed for comfort...with a tiny, swaddled bundle resting against his left shoulder. He looked tired, as most parents of a newborn would, but peaceful and...happy.

She had to laugh, "you don't look anything like a military commander right now, you know that?"

He snorted, "I'm on leave. For awhile anyway." The tiny bundle squirmed and grunted softly, and he patted it gently. A quiet belch followed.

"How's Rinoa doing?" Maiere asked.

"She's fine." Squall answered, smiling slightly. "Have a seat, make yourselves comfortable." He indicated the couch, then asked "Would you like anything to drink?"

"Water is fine for me. Teran?" Maiere turned to her son, who nodded.

"Saber," Squall said, tilting his head wordlessly toward the kitchen. The boy disappeared without comment, returning with a filled glass each for her and Teran.

His hair had grown out, Maiere noticed, the white streak at his temple a startling contrast against the darker color. She was glad to see him fully restored to robust health and vitality; he was still lean, but was far more muscular than he had been. And when Rinoa joined them, the way they seemed to glow from within when near each other, made her heart hurt.

Teran, who had been uncharacteristically silent as he took in his surroundings and Squall's altered appearance, finally spoke up, asking, "Um, when did the baby get born?"

Rinoa smiled kindly at him, answering, "About a week ago."

"What'd you name it?" He asked curiously.

"Well, there was quite a discussion about that," Squall answered, exchanging an amused glance with Rinoa, before adding. "We went round and round about it for months before I got hurt."

"He was almost certain we'd settle on Tempest, but we decided on something different, after we got home." Rinoa said.

Squall slipped his arm around Rinoa's waist and she leaned against him. They really were an incredibly photogenic pair, Maiere thought. Rinoa, only a week postpartum, still looked luminous and lovely.

"The doctor told me, after you had been taken home, exactly what you both had done to help me, and how much of a part you'd played in it, Teran." Squall said, studying both Maiere and her son. "I wouldn't even be here, if it wasn't for you." he paused a moment and carefully shifted the sleeping infant from his shoulder to the crook of his arm, gazing down at the baby's face for a moment.

"I wouldn't be holding my newborn son, Teran, if you hadn't kept squeezing that bag and forcing air into my lungs when I couldn't do it myself." looking up and meeting Teran's eyes, Squall said, "The baby's name is Teran Collen Leonhart. Rinoa and I both agreed on it. I hope you don't mind."

Maiere was touched at the gesture, and Teran looked ready to burst open with joy.

"You really named your baby after me?" Teran asked him, eyes wide in amazement.

"Yes, we did." Squall nodded. "You want to come and meet your namesake?"

Teran glanced at Maiere, silently begging. She nodded permission, and he approached Squall and peered down at the infant.

"He looks kinda...funny." The boy said doubtfully.

Squall snorted quietly, "should have seen him when he was born. All red and kind of squished looking, and covered in goo."

"Really?" Teran met his eyes, then glanced over at Maiere for confirmation, asking "Do babies really look like that when they're born mama?"

"They do," she said.

"He's so little," Teran marveled.

"They all start out that way," Squall said, running a finger gently over the top of the baby's downy head.

Maiere glanced over at Saber, who was simply watching them all quietly, and asked him, "are you okay with this?"

Saber met her eyes, and she was struck by how beautiful they were. Much like his father's, but in clear emerald rather than ice-blue, and set off by inky black hair. Very reminiscent of a former political figure who she'd recently learned, via Teran, was this boy's grandfather.

Smiling slightly, he answered, "Yeah. I am. And for the same reasons my dad said."

"How long are you going to be visiting Balamb?" Rinoa asked them.

"We'll be here the remainder of the week, then we'll have to head back. Part of what brought me out here was some supplies that I could only get in Galbadia. Since Balamb is a short train ride away, a visit here was part of the plan. I do need to get back soon though, Some of those supplies are critical, and it takes quite awhile to get there." Maiere said."It took us three weeks just to get here."

"Why didn't you call? We could have arranged a pick up," Squall said with a frown.

"It seemed silly to have you fly that big 'ol airship out to come get me just for a shopping trip." Maiere said with a shrug.

"Well, don't worry about getting back. I'll have Nida or Zell drop you off. Just let me know when you want to go and I'll arrange it." Squall said firmly.

"Thank you, really, but that's not necessary..." Maiere began.

"Nonsense. You can be home in hours rather than weeks. And I insist." Squall said.

Maiere ducked her head and finally nodded, "thank you. I appreciate it."

"Mom? Saber said he'd show me the Quad. Can I go?" Teran asked.

Maiere glanced at Saber who shrugged, "I need to take the dog out, and the weather's nice today."

"That was kind of you to invite Teran along." Maiere nodded to her son. "Go ahead. I'll catch up with you later."

The two boys left with the dog in tow, and Maiere sighed, watching them. Then she returned her attention to Squall and Rinoa, wondering how to ask the numerous questions that she had rattling around in her mind now that they were private.

It was very disconcerting to see the way they both watched her expectantly, even more so when Rinoa said softly, "I know you have questions you wanted to ask out of your son's hearing. Don't be afraid to ask them now."

Maiere, caught off guard, laughed slightly, "Wow. I had no idea I was that obvious. Either that, or you're scarily perceptive."

"Bit of both, actually." Squall said with a half smile.

Maiere studied them both for a moment.

"Teran spent the last three months digging up everything he could about you and about SeeD." She said."There's not a whole lot of information available, but some of what I learned confirmed what I saw when you were fighting the monsters that attacked us. SeeDs use para-magic, like the Galbadian army does, don't they?"

Squall and Rinoa exchanged a glance, then Squall answered, "Kind of. The Guardians that we bond or junction with give us the ability to use magic. But its...different, the way we use it. Stronger. The guardians can also enhance certain abilities: strength, speed, vitality, among others."

"Is that how you managed to heal so quickly then?" Maiere asked.

"Partly. The injuries I sustained would have been much worse if Bahamut hadn't shielded me from the worst of it. If I'd had any healing spells to hand, I could have dealt with the injuries myself but.." Squall shrugged. "In this case, the trauma team had to use a combination of healing potions, curative magic and surgery."

"So...you were cured by magic?" she asked.

"And healing potions."

"That was one of the reasons I came all the way up here. I'm bringing back a supply of healing elixirs. We need them." Maiere said. Then, biting her lip, she asked Rinoa, "I meant to ask you...how did you know my name? And Teran's? I never had the chance to tell you. And... You never asked."

"Squall told me." Rinoa answered, simply.

Maiere stared at her, wondering if the woman was making fun of her or perhaps was mistaking things. Squall hadn't spoken to her when he'd been brought onto the Ragnarok. He'd been unconscious and barely alive. And while there had been a cellphone included in his personal effects, it had been shattered beyond repair.

"I don't...understand." Maiere finally said slowly.

Maiere didn't miss Squall taking Rinoa's hand and squeezing it, supporting her.

Then Rinoa explained, "I'm...a sorceress. And Squall is my knight, as well as my husband. We have a...bond. A mind-link. It helped me to...bring him back, when his memories were damaged. He thought they were dreams at first."

"Then I remembered that they were real," Squall added."That _she_ was real. I relayed our coordinates to her, as well as your names. That's why I _knew_ they were coming. It wasn't just faith."

"It was at first," Maiere said softly.

Squall gave her a half-smile and nodded, "Yeah. It was at first."

"You're not like the ...other sorceresses. The bad ones." Maiere said hesitantly to Rinoa.

"No. History only records the bad ones,"Rinoa replied. "There are more, I've found, that lived quietly. Simply. The ones with good knights, were stable. The ones without or the ones who had lost their knights were...not."

Then she gave Maiere a penetrating look and said, "but that's not all that you wanted to know, is it?"

Maiere shook her head. "No. I also came here to ask Squall a question...about Teran."

Squall raised his eyebrows, "What is the question?"

"Do you think that Teran would make a good SeeD? He's...it seems that its all he talks about and...He wants to go to school here. I don't think I can afford the tuition but the educational opportunites that he could get here would take him farther than the little school in our town could. But...would he make a SeeD?"

Squall studied her silently for a moment, then answered, "No. There are tests, evaluations, that he would have to undertake before being considered for the program but I've seen enough young cadets by now that I can tell you honestly that while he's quick, intelligent and brave, he's also very empathetic. Good trait in a healer, but a liability in a SeeD. That's not a weakness, I will hasten to add. It simply means that his future lies along a different pathway."

Maiere let out a breath, both relieved and disappointed. It had never occurred to her that he might not be accepted at Balamb Garden. How naive of her. Balamb Garden was a military academy; of course there would be certain prerequisites for prospective cadets.

"I...see." She said. "I'll have to explain that to him, but..."

"I didn't say he wouldn't be accepted at Balamb Garden," Squall interrupted her. "I only said that he would not make a good SeeD. Not every child here is in the SeeD program. In fact, only about half of them are. If you think he would benefit from attending school here, and he wants to come, he would be welcome. And I wouldn't worry about the tuition if I were you."

"I'm pretty sure we can gear his education toward his strengths," Rinoa added, smiling. "He's already shown alot of aptitude as a healer. Many non-SeeD graduates from Balamb Garden go on to University. Some become doctors, or lawyers."

"We try not to mention the lawyers," Squall said, deadpan.

Maiere blinked for a moment, surprised, then burst out laughing. She quieted quickly when the tiny bundle in Squall's arms stirred and squeaked, then grunted, rooting.

He wordlessly handed the baby to Rinoa who gave Maiere an apologetic glance. "He's hungry." She said. "Seems like I just fed him..." She stood as though to leave, and Maiere stopped her.

"Don't let me put you out. This is your home. I'd better be going anyway." Maiere said, preparing to leave. "I'll see if someone can direct me to the Quad to collect Teran."

"I'll have someone take you there," Squall stood too, bending down to kiss Rinoa briefly before escorting Maiere to the door.

"You look like you've made a full recovery, I'm very happy to say." Maiere said.

"Almost. Some memories are a bit jumbled still, and I haven't recovered anything regarding the event itself. I don't think I ever will." Squall replied.

"Well, it takes time. And even healing potions have their limitations." Maiere said.

"Maybe its better that way." He said softly. Then he opened the door and smiled, "And here come our sons. I guess I don't have to draft anyone to escort you to the Quad after all."

Maiere had to smile as Teran ran up to her, happy and excited by his visit.

"This place is so cool mom! Did you know it flies? It can go anywhere!" he said, hugging her enthusiastically.

"Neat!" she said. "We'll have to talk about it a little more when we get to the hotel."

"We're leaving already?" Teran asked, looking disappointed.

"Yes. Squall has a new baby and they're alot of work to take care of. Mommies have to sleep sometime." Maiere said.

"Oh." Teran said.

Turning to Squall, Maiere said, "Thank you. For everything."

"I should be saying the same to you. Don't be afraid to call us, for any reason." Squall told her, adding, "and regarding our earlier conversation, let me know what you decide, and I'll arrange it."

Glancing down at Teran, Squall went down on one knee and said, "It was nice seeing you again, Teran." He extended his arms, and Teran took the hint and hugged him enthusisastically.

"It was good seeing you too! Can we come back?" Teran asked him.

"Sure. Your mother and I will have to arrange it, but you'll see me again." Squall assured him, giving the boy a final squeeze before standing up and extending his hand, intending to shake Maiere's.

"Are you kidding me with this? Come here!" She said, pulling him into another hug and squeezing him tight. Kissing him on the cheek, she said, "Give that to your wife for me."

"I will, thanks." He smiled at her. Saber came up to stand beside his father and he dropped his arm around his son's shoulders. "Hope you enjoy your visit in Balamb."

"We will. You guys have a good day and we'll talk to you again soon." Maiere said.

Saber gave a wordless wave, as they took their leave.

Maiere had alot to think about as she and Teran made their way back to their temporary accommodations. Teran would have all kinds of doors opened to him with a diploma from Balamb Garden, even if he did _not_ go into the military or become a SeeD.

University, and a degree as an actual doctor, were real possibilities. But it meant that she'd either have to leave the little community that she assisted Dr. Marlow in caring for, or send Teran to live at Garden on his own. She was torn; should she stay in Centra, and continue to work with Dr. Marlow, out in the middle of nowhere? Alone, with no prospects to change that, in a wild place that appeared to be getting more dangerous by the day... Or come to Balamb with Teran and make a new life there? What about _her_ possibilities? She had stayed in Centra because she hadn't seen any reason to leave it and it was familiar. But now...

She weighed the pros and cons over the next few days, meeting with the Headmistress, Quistis Trepe, various instructors, cadets, and SeeDs. Finally, she met with Rinoa alone. That visit solidified her decision, and by the week's end, arrangements were being made.

As they boarded the Ragnarok for the long flight back to Centra, Maiere knew that Dr. Marlow would be happy for her, despite losing her as an assistant. She would deliver the supplies that the doctor had asked for, then she would pack everything up, put the house that she'd shared with her husband up for sale, and leave it and his ghost behind.

It was time to move on, and make a new life, with new friends.

~fin~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it my friends! All done! Special thank you to Karla3 who's done wonderfully as my beta for this story (and maybe others...). Hope you enjoyed it, and for all of you who've read and reviewed, thank you!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you like it so far... It's weird but I think it'll be cool...hopefully I can pull it off...anyway.. Enjoy!


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